


Trust and Other Emotions

by doverit



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Blow Jobs, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, First Time, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Mentions of Major Character Death, Oral Sex, POV Daryl Dixon, Physical Abuse, Tags May Change
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-17
Updated: 2016-08-30
Packaged: 2018-08-09 02:03:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 20,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7782610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doverit/pseuds/doverit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Daryl is stuck taking care of an injured Jesus, he finds the younger man gets under his skin in more ways than one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Anger

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LostInWonder](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LostInWonder/gifts).



> This story is complete. It will be my first attempt at a posting schedule. I'm shooting for Monday, Wednesday & Fridays. 
> 
> I started this story many months ago. It would have probably ended up in my overflowing WIP bin if not for my dear friend, [LostInWonder's](http://archiveofourown.org/users/LostInWonder/pseuds/LostInWonder) tireless efforts to help me see it finished. Thank you, thank you, thank you LostInWonder! This story is for you, even though you've got to be sick of looking at it by now! ;)

"What happened?" Rick bellowed angrily, making Daryl fight not to flinch like a scolded puppy as both men stood over a bloody, bruised Paul...Jesus- whatever stupid name this asshole was calling himself.  
  
"He jumped me!" Jesus spit out angrily, as he glared over at Daryl.  
  
"Asshole wouldn't cut the engine!"  
  
"Because I was doing what was asked of me!"  
  
"He tried to leave. Truck packed with our guns. Our ammo..." Daryl sputtered to Rick as he watched Jesus struggle to right himself. He used the back of his hand to wipe the blood that was pooling at his own split lip. Prick was fast he'd give him that, he thought begrudgingly.  
  
"Yeah, I know! Weapons I asked him to take back to Hilltop!" Rick spit out angrily as he attempted to help Jesus stand. As soon as the younger man put weight on his ankle, he crumpled back to the ground in agony.  
  
Daryl swallowed hard, the magnitude of his mistake settling in like a lead weight in his gut. His people were prepping to face Negan, the sooner the better to get the jump on him. His mistake might have cost them an able-bodied fighter that Rick was obviously counting on for the coming battle.

Daryl didn't trust Jesus. There was just something about the guy that got under his skin, right from day one. Rick knew this, and they'd already had words over it. Daryl had agreed to try where he was concerned, but instead he'd let his temper get the best of him and lashed out.

He'd fucked up.

Without thinking, he reached down to scoop the other man up in his arms, ignoring the threats and blistering curse words spewed at him as he did.  
  
Jesus was slimmer than him but he was still much too heavy to carry far. Luckily, with the adrenaline still flowing from their scuffle Daryl managed to take him the short distance to their makeshift hospital with Rick hot on his tail.  
  
"M'sorry, Rick," he mumbled after depositing Jesus on the nearest flat surface, leaving him in Denise's capable hands. "You know I don't trust the guy. When I saw him in that loaded truck I just snapped, " he confessed as they made their way to the outside porch.  
  
"I know," Rick sighed, running frustrated fingers through his mess of salt and pepper curls. "I know you wouldn't have done that otherwise. Trust ain't easy to come by now, but the fact is, we need him. You need to fix this."  
  
Daryl hung his head in shame. He knew Rick was right. He'd made the wrong call, and now his mistake might have put everyone at risk.  
  
Denise cleared her throat softly behind them. Neither man had heard her approach.  
  
"Well?" Rick asked worriedly.  
  
"His ankle doesn't appear to be broken," she said, making Daryl gust out a breath in relief. She shot accusatory eyes his way at the sound. "But it's badly sprained. Tara's wrapping it now. Not to mention the multitude of contusions and..."  
  
"But the ankle's the worst of it?" Rick interjected.  
  
"Yes. He was lucky," she answered, still glaring daggers at Daryl.  
  
"Alright. Patch him up as best you can. We'll bring him to our house to rest up."  
  
Denise side-eyed Daryl as she answered Rick. "Do you think that's the best idea after what happened?"  
  
"It was a misunderstanding," Rick began, but Daryl cut him off.  
  
"It was my fault. I'll do what I can to make it right," Daryl insisted, holding the doctors wary gaze as he spoke.  
  
"Ok," she replied hesitantly, nodding her head once. "He shouldn't bear weight on his ankle for at least a week. His leg should be kept elevated above his heart when he's resting. He should be given anti-inflammatory and pain medication as directed the first forty-eight hours, then as needed. Next week he can start on crutches but only for short bursts. If he pushes it, he'll only reinjure the sprain and he'll be back to square one or worse."  
  
"Keep him still for a week, prop up his leg, give him drugs, got it." Daryl repeated abbreviated instructions back to her. She nodded again, but still looked anxious. He liked the doc, and she'd seemed to like him too, but looking at her expression now he figured that burgeoning friendship was probably shot to hell.  
  
"I'll make sure to check on his progress," Denise added.  
  
Rick thanked her. "I'll go talk to Jesus now, " he said. " Explain the situation. Hopefully smooth things over a bit. Daryl, you go ready the first floor guest room."  
  
Daryl nodded and headed out, wondering how things got so screwed up so fast and most importantly, how the hell he was gonna stomach playing nice with this asshole for an entire week.  
  
\----------------------  
  
Daryl was in the kitchen finishing lunch when Rick brought Jesus in. He could see them maneuvering up the porch from the kitchen window. The fucker was in a wheelchair for Christ's sake, making him look extra pitiful. Rick had to wheel him backwards to bump him up the few front steps to get inside.  
  
He dropped his spoon into his half-eaten chili and listened to the sounds of his family as they greeted Jesus, welcoming him into their home. He knew he should go out there, say something, but he just couldn't face everyone yet. Instead, he busied himself scooping up a fresh bowl of chili for his new patient. He knew he had to apologize. Probably go better if he had food to go with it.  
  
He found a cookie tray next to the oven and began awkwardly loading it up with the lunch when Rick walked in. "He's here."  
  
"I saw. Getting him food now."  
  
"Good. Hope there's an apology planned to go with all that?" Rick reminded him, pointing to the laden tray.  
  
"There is," Daryl assured him. Then after a beat he added, "How's he doing?"  
  
"Surprisingly well, considering," Rick said with a small smirk. "Much better than you'd be if the situation were reversed, that's for sure. Go on now. I cleared the room so you boys can chat."  
  
Daryl glared at Rick as he shouldered past him with the wobbly tray.  
  
Rick must have cleared not just Jesus's room, but the whole damn house because the place was suddenly deserted. Daryl didn't know whether to be grateful or not.  
  
Forgoing a knock, he pushed the cracked door wide open with his shoe, so as not to jostle the contents of the tray anymore than he already was. He would have made a shitty waiter. "Hey," he grumbled as he entered the room.  
  
Jesus's face was passive as he watched his attacker fumble to find a spot on the nightstand for the tray.

"Brought you lunch," Daryl said, pulling up a nearby folding chair next to the bed.  
  
Jesus still didn't answer. Daryl sighed. It definitely could be worse. He could be sitting here with bleeding ears right now from a barrage of 'fuck you asshole's' raining down from the guy, but he wasn't. Daryl wasn't sure if the silence was better or not so he decided to just push on.  
  
"Doc says you should be up and about in a week."  
  
"On crutches if I'm lucky," Jesus interjected accusingly, finally breaking his silence. He hissed in pain and reached up to gingerly touch a swelling bruise at his hairline.  
  
Daryl's tracked his movement, visibly wincing when he noticed the head bruise. "Looks like it hurts?"  
  
"No worse than your face." Jesus retorted, his eyes smugly cataloging Daryl's facial injuries.  
  
Daryl automatically reached up to press two fingers to his split lip and then ghost them over his bruised cheek and up to his black eye. He looked mangled for sure, but he'd had worse. He ignored the younger man's snide remark. He was trying to bury the hatchet, not start another fight. "Look man, I'm sorry," he offered.

"Are you?" Jesus asked, his tone cold as ice.  
  
"Yeah, I am. I fucked up, ok? Didn't mean for things to get so out of hand, " Daryl admitted.  
  
"Cause how I see it, you've been looking to start something since you brought me back here," Jesus said angrily.

"What'd you expect? You tried to steal our shit!" Daryl answered bitterly.  
  
"I was trying to get supplies for my group." Jesus said through gritted teeth.  
  
"By stealing from us!" Daryl said, his voice raising in anger.  
  
"You two would do the same to feed your own group. I would've come back for you after," Jesus insisted.

"Sure you would've," Daryl sneered.  
  
"It was my job. Scout for others and scavenge for supplies. You two pulled weapons on me, an unarmed man. Now despite that rocky start, I gave you a second chance because Rick is a decent man."  
  
Daryl fought to keep his mouth shut. It rankled him to hear Jesus talk about Rick being the only decent one. What the fuck did he know?

And Jesus was still going. "Even after taking an enormous leap of faith, taking you to our settlement, securing your people with food and much needed supplies I'm still sitting here with a busted ankle, all because Rick can't keep his dog on a leash!"  
  
"Sprained, not broken," Daryl grit out, glaring back at him, trying not to take the bait. It was a struggle when the man was so obviously trying to get under his skin.  
  
"Just get out," Jesus muttered, attempting to shift his torso to turn his back on him.

Dammit, this wasn't how things were supposed to be going, Daryl thought frustratedly. He was supposed to be smoothing things out, not riling stuff back up. It was a hell of a lot harder than he thought, given the mouth on this guy.

Daryl saw the pained expression on the younger man's face as he struggled to position himself and fresh guilt lanced through him as he realized he'd apparently injured the man's shoulder as well. He remembered Jesus crying out when he'd dragged him out of the truck. No doubt that's when it had happened. Daryl winced at the vivid memory, and the undeniable evidence of the younger man's pain before him.  
  
All of it, Daryl's fault. He should've checked with someone, anyone before he lost his shit and went ballistic.  
  
"Here," he heard himself say, reaching for the wounded man before he thought things through. "Let me help you so you don't jostle that shoulder too much."  
  
"Fuck off, Dixon!" Jesus snarled, attempting to fling off Daryl's questing hand. A cry of pain escaped him from the sudden movement.

Annoyed by the younger man's carelessness, Daryl moved in to fix the problem. "I know your shoulder's hurt," he said firmly. "Let me help so you don't make it worse." Without waiting for permission, he quickly grabbed the other man by his hips before he could pull away again. Daryl's hands pressed in tight to get a good grip, his fingers splaying wide and catching some skin where Jesus's shirt was rucked up a bit at his waist. The sudden feel of hot, firm, bare skin against his sent a shiver of sensation like a spark of electricity up his arms. Flustered, he moved his hands away the second he'd settled him in place, trying to forget the disturbingly pleasant feel of Jesus's abdominal muscles flexing under his thumbs as he'd shifted him.

Then he made the mistake of looking up at the younger man's face, mere inches from his own.  
  
Jesus was rendered speechless by the unexpected manhandling. Daryl took in his shocked expression and felt the blood rush to his face. He quickly scooted himself back to the nearby folding chair.  
  
"M'sorry. Just know how bad it hurts to move it," he mumbled, completely mortified.  
  
"Whatever," Jesus finally grunted, the surprise still plain on his face. "Not the first time you've put hands on me today, is it? Least this time you didn't draw blood."  
  
Daryl fought not to shift uncomfortably. He knew he deserved that from the man, and more probably.  
  
Jesus's eyes locked with his as Daryl forced himself to keep talking. "I didn't know Rick told you to take the truck, ok? I saw you, ready to move out with an assload of our weapons and I just snapped."  
  
Jesus was still staring at him but he didn't interrupt so Daryl kept on. "You're right. I thought the worst of you and I shouldn't have...considering all you've done to help."  
  
Jesus broke their gaze and sighed. Daryl took it as he was at least listening. "It's my fault you're hurt, so I'm gonna see to it that you heal up right. Don't need you moving much so I'll bunk within ear shot on the couch for the night shift. There'll be others checking on you during the day.  
  
Jesus studied his face for another moment before murmuring a sarcastic, "Yippee." Still, Daryl didn't think he was imagining that the man seemed less pissed when he looked at him.  
  
Satisfied, he stood up to leave. He was just turning to go when he heard Jesus moving around again. Turning back, he saw his full lips pressed into a tight, grim line as he struggled inefficiently to maneuver himself closer to his just-out-of-reach food tray.  
  
Daryl hesitated, but after another moment watching him struggle he marched backand grasped the tray off the nightstand.  
He maneuvered the tray awkwardly, trying to avoid touching Jesus again. But his nerves betrayed him and the tray shook in his hands, the bowl of chili and drink glass rattling violently on the tin surface. In his effort to keep the contents of the tray from spilling, Daryl lost his balance and almost fell atop the younger man himself. He shot a hand out to catch himself while his other hand thankfully managed to keep the tray steady. His relief at his success turned out to be short lived.  
  
"Umm," Jesus said after a moment, one eyebrow raised in question. "You want to move your hand now?"

Daryl looked down to find his palm planted firmly in Jesus's lap. He flushed red again as he realized just what body part he was touching. He yanked his hand back like he'd touched a sizzling-hot pan. Avoiding the other man's piercing gaze, he turned to flee.

Daryl was across the room with his hand already on the door knob when Jesus spoke up again. "I'll be done with this tray soon. You'll come back to get it? I'm going to need help getting rid of these clothes too."  
  
Daryl swallowed hard. Take off his clothes? Fucking hell. "W-what?" he stammered, rattled even further by the shockingly arousing thought of stripping Jesus bare.

"Bring me fresh clothes?" the younger man repeated slowly, watching him with a contemplative, somewhat smug look on his face, like he knew something Daryl didn't. "What? You didn't think I was asking you to dress me, did you?"

"No!" Daryl shot back indignantly, his face flaming even hotter. He fled the room before Jesus could say anything else.

He wasn't quite out of earshot when he heard the younger man chuckling at his expense.  
  
Asshole.

 

 


	2. Empathy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, did I mention [LostInWonder](http://archiveofourown.org/users/LostInWonder/pseuds/LostInWonder) wrote this story summary? Yup. I was stuck, so she looked over my original attempt and fixed it. I liked her version better than mine so I stole it. ;)  
> If you've never read her stuff, take a moment to do so. She's an amazing writer!
> 
> Glad you guys are liking this story. I love reading the comments so keep em' coming, please!

"He's really running you ragged, huh?" Carol asked, turning back toward the stove to try and unsuccessfully hide her smirk from Daryl as he slammed breakfast items down onto the same tin cookie tray for his royal highness.  
  
"Asshole had me up all night. He needs ta piss more than Maggie!"  
  
"Well I wouldn't concern yourself. It's only a few more days. Unless he's asking you to give it a shake when he's done?"

The idea of doing just that flashed unbidden into his mind and he shot her a withering glance as he pushed the shameful idea out of his head.

"You know I'm just teasing. I think it's good, you and him...communicating. Our people are stronger together, but not when two of our best fighters are at each other's throats."

"Best fighter? Him?" Daryl scoffed. "You seen him after I got done with him, right?" He'd already admitted to himself that Jesus was stronger than he looked and could put up one hell of a fight, but he'd be damned if he'd acknowledge that to anyone else!

"Behave," Carol admonished playfully, pointing her wooden spoon at him.  
  
Daryl fought a smile as he looked down at the laden tray Carol helped him organize. "Thanks," he mumbled. He picked up the tray and and got ready to take it away.

Halfway out of the kitchen, Carol added, "You know, you two have more in common besides the ability to beat the snot out of each other with your bare hands."  
  
Daryl huffed in disbelief. That smug prick was nothing like him. "Sure."  
  
"I'm serious," she insisted. "Have you talked to him yet?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
Carol rolled her eyes. "I mean really talked to him?"  
  
"Have you?" Daryl countered, curious at to what sorta nonsense Jesus had been filling Carol's head with. The woman usually had more sense than to fall for some stranger's bullshit. More importantly, why did he even care?

"Yes, I have. You're a lot more alike than you know."

"How you figure that?" Daryl asked before he could stop himself. Dammit, now it looked like he gave a shit, which he didn't.

Carol observed his frustration with a smirk. "Nice try Dixon, but that's for him to explain, after you make it up to him."  
  
Daryl grunted, then turned to go, a deep scowl pinching his features as he made his way to the guest room, wondering what the hell Carol was trying to prove. That asshole and him were nothing alike.  
  
Pushing into the guest room, he was greeted with his patient, shirtless, sitting up in the bed. Denise was with him, checking him over. They were laughing until they saw Daryl enter. He put the tray on Jesus's nightstand and pretended not to notice how his arrival had abruptly ended their fun.

The tray set, Daryl shifted his gaze from a bemused Jesus over to Denise. From the guilty look on her face, Daryl figured he'd most likely been the topic of their aborted conversation. Daryl frowned at the thought, knowing it was more likely the pair had been laughing at him than with him.  
  
Denise coughed once awkwardly, then looked back down at her open medical bag. Jesus laughed, his blue eyes bright and focused on Daryl. "Aww, don't let him rattle you. He's not as scary as he thinks he is."  
  
Denise's gaze moved between the two men, still bearing the numerous marks from their fight and raised her eyebrows. "You say that like you're both not covered in bruises."  
  
Daryl couldn't help but rake his eyes over the younger man's bare torso. He was sporting some decent bruises. Faint bluish marks bloomed along the wiry muscles of his left shoulder spreading downward over part of his defined pec. The older man could see that there were other scars dotting his torso as well, much too old to be from their fight. In fact, if Daryl had to guess, he'd say those scars predated the virus by a lot of years. Although it was hard to tell exactly under the strands of soft-looking dark chest hair covering certain spots.

Jesus's caught his gaze and an amused smirk crept up the side of his mouth. Daryl's face flamed in embarrassment as he quickly looked away, realizing how raptly he'd been staring at another man's chest.  
  
"Don't worry." Jesus assured Denise teasingly. "Turns out his bark is worse than his bite."  
  
For some reason the younger man's bright eyes and easy, confident grin left Daryl stuck for a clever comeback. "Asshole," he settled for muttering. He tried for mean, but it wound up coming out lacking any heat whatsoever.

Denise shook her head. "Boys," she said knowingly, as if that explained everything, and went back to doctoring Jesus, whose grin had suddenly grown a bit wider. 

  
\----------------

  
  
Daryl woke up suddenly. Something felt off in the house. He listened for a moment but no noise greeted him. Then he heard it, quiet whimpering coming from the guest room. He grabbed his pocket watch and peered at it through the moonlight filtering in the front window.  
  
3:10am.  
  
Shit, he thought, swaying with exhaustion as he stumbled in to check on Jesus. Opening his door, he focused bleary eyes on the man. Jesus was sitting up in bed. He could see he was grimacing, as if in pain. He let out a small whimper when he shifted his hurt foot beneath the bedding.

"Sorry to wake you," he whispered tightly. "Got twisted up in the covers and tweaked my ankle a little."  
  
"When was your last pain pill?" Daryl mumbled sleepily, as he picked up the little white bottle from the nightstand and opened it, shaking three small yellow pills into the palm of his hand. Sitting down on the edge of the bed, he reached for the glass of water already on the nightstand to help him swallow the medicine.  
  
"Don't want the pills." Jesus grit out.  
  
"Why not? You need 'em," Daryl asked, turning to face him.  
  
"They give me nightmares," he whispered, shuddering visibly at the memory. "I'd rather the pain."  
  
"Don't be stupid," Daryl grunted.  
  
"I can take the pain. It's not so bad anymore."  
  
Daryl shrugged sleepily and returned the pills to their bottle. He snuck a weary glance at Jesus and saw that despite the warm temperature in the room, he was shivering. Sighing, he stood up to fix the twisted blanket so the younger man could better cover himself.  
  
"Thanks."

Daryl nodded and turned to go. Before he'd gone two steps he heard another soft, pained noise escape the man behind him. He sighed, reluctantly giving in to the urge to check on him one more time, and turned around.

"Get some rest," Jesus grit out, barely concealing a grimace. "I'm ok."

Scrubbing a hand down his face, Daryl trudged back over and plopped himself back down on the edge of the bed. They sat in silence for a moment until Daryl finally asked. "Your nightmare. Walkers?"

Jesus nodded. Then after a short pause, admitted, "Worse than walkers. My Dad." For once those huge blue eyes couldn't meet Daryl's gaze and he suddenly seemed younger. Vulnerable.

Daryl stilled, his own breath hitching in his chest because in that instant things puzzled together, and he knew. He'd seen Jesus's scars, and before the younger man could even say it, Daryl knew what was coming. And he knew what it cost the other man to admit it.

"He hit you," he stated. He kept his tone neutral, didn't even inflect it like a question. He figured he'd extend the kind of courtesy he'd want himself. Give the man room to talk if he wanted, let it go otherwise.  
  
Jesus hesitated, then nodded. "Me and my brother both."  
  
"Older or younger?" That Daryl couldn't help but ask, because now what Carol had told him was sinking in. You're a lot more alike than you know.  
  
"Huh?" Jesus asked, confused by the question.  
  
"Your brother."  
  
"Oh. Older."  
  
Of course, Daryl thought ruefully. "He alive?"  
  
"He was in the beginning, but he, umm, he didn't make it."  
  
Fucking Carol. Was that woman ever wrong? Daryl wished for once she was.  
  
There were lots of things he could have said but nothing came to mind that wouldn't make him sound like a damned after-school special. He settled for patting the younger man on his good shoulder and offering up one insufficient word for how terrible he knew things were. He knew, because it was his fucked-up life too.  
  
"Sucks."  
  
"Yeah. Pisses me off to no-end that the world is now full of real, honest-to-god monsters, and I'm still dreaming about dear old dad."  
  
"I know," Daryl said on a sigh. Jesus gingerly turned toward him, being careful with his hurt shoulder.  
  
"Yeah?"

Those big eyes were locked onto his again, and for once Daryl found himself wanting to share his fucked-up past. He told himself it was the right thing to do, to ease the younger man's mind, let him know he wasn't alone. "Had my own nightmare dad.

Jesus' eyes stayed on his face expectantly.  
  
Shit, he wanted to hear more, Daryl thought, and that wasn't nearly as irritating as he thought it should be. "Had a big brother too," he added.  
  
"Huh, " Jesus hummed, holding Daryl's gaze thoughtfully.  
  
"He's gone, too. Over a year now." Just saying it out loud gave him a lump in his throat, which he swallowed sharply in annoyance.  
  
But Jesus just tilted his head up at the ceiling, blinking rapidly and swallowing hard himself and Daryl realized he wasn't the only one hiding a moment of weakness.

They both studied the ceiling until Jesus blew out a sigh and echoed Daryl's earlier proclamation. "Sucks."  
  
"Yup," Daryl readily agreed, feeling lighter now somehow.

"You know Dixon, " Jesus started, his smug tone signalling an end to the depressing topic, "a week ago I wouldn't of thought it possible, but I'm starting to think you just might be a good person. And, that's coming from a guy who's ass you just kicked. So, fuck you."  
  
Daryl snorted and turned his head back toward Jesus. Their eyes locked. "Fuck you right back, man."

Jesus struggled again to settle himself. and seeing Daryl watching him with concern, he hissed "Oww!" dramatically as he moved his swollen ankle to a more comfortable position. "Changed my mind," he smirked. "Still hate you."  
  
"Asshole," Daryl murmured with a awkward grin as he struggled wearily to sit up and head out. He froze when he felt Jesus grip his wrist.

"Stay?"  
  
"What? No!"  
  
"Cmon," he begged. "You worried I'm gonna jump your bones? I can't even walk straight thanks to you, remember? Or are you worried you won't be able to resist me?" he teased, batting his eyelashes comically.

Wait, was he actually suggesting he sleep in the same bed? Daryl's stomach did a little flip. "Yeah, I'm out," he muttered. But when he attempted to yank back his wrist, Jesus gripped him tighter.

"No, wait. I promise I'll stop messing around," Jesus begged, suddenly seeming earnest. He carefully loosened his grip on Daryl's wrist before letting go entirely, as if he was afraid any sudden movement would send Daryl running.  
  
"Need me to keep the monsters away, huh?" Daryl mumbled, his resolve starting to break as he remembered how many sleepless nights he himself had spent due to childhood terrors. Nights like that were bound to make you say stupid things.  
  
"Caught me," Jesus whispered, before scooting over towards the edge of the bed as carefully as he could to make plenty of open space available.  
  
Daryl rubbed at the crick in his neck from sleeping on the tiny couch. God, he'd gotten soft. But he couldn't deny he was used to sleeping comfortable again. Kinda weird to even be considering staying, but what wasn't weird anymore? He'd slept side by side in the dirt with every member of his group at one time or another. Woke up snuggling too. Nobody cared. Stuff like that wasn't worth worrying about anymore. You know what, he thought, fuck it.  
  
"Ok, but just for a little while," he relented, settling back into the space Jesus vacated on the bed, his jaw cracking in an enormous yawn as soon as his head hit the soft, fluffy pillow.  
  
"Thanks man." Jesus whispered.  
  
"Don't mention it. I mean really don't mention it or I'll have to kick your ass again, " Daryl grumbled.  
  
"Too soon. Not even a bit funny yet, " Jesus mumbles, before yawning big himself and gingerly settling down to sleep.

 


	3. Frustration

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys find more common ground and grow closer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I forgot a few tags. Adding those now.

"There's no meat left?"  
  
"Don't blame me. You're the one who's two hours late for dinner. We had no idea when you'd be back. And there is food, just nothing prepared. You'll have to fix yourself something."  
  
"Like what?" Daryl asked Rosita, hoping she'd offer some suggestions. After all, It wasn't just his own mouth he had to feed. Jesus probably thought he'd forgotten him as well. Daryl wished he could forget him. Lately, all his thoughts seemed to circle back to the younger man. It was aggravating.  
  
"Don't know, don't care, " Rosita said tiredly before putting the last of the washed dishes away in the cabinet. "There's always peanut butter and jelly," she informed a scowling Daryl before she left the kitchen.  
  
He snuck a glance at the wall clock. Eight o'clock. Damn, it was later than he'd realized. He'd been out scouting with Aaron. Not for more survivors this time, but for more weapons and ammo.  
  
The smell of roast venison still hung heavy in the air around him, like the worst tease. Daryl opened the refrigerator hoping against hope to find some scraps. Unfortunately, as Rosita had warned him, there was nothing left of the prepared dinner. His stomach rumbled in frustration. He'd lost track of the time, and he'd missed his own damn kill.  
  
Tired and annoyed, he flung open the cabinets looking for a jar of peanut butter to go with the bread and jelly he'd pilfered from the fridge. He spread out damn near all the bread slices to ready. If he was hungry, then Jesus would be too.  
  
He found the jar in the third cabinet he looked in. Grabbing it, he was just about to slam the cabinet door shut again when he spied a glass bottle, pushed back so it was barely visible on the highest shelf. Daryl stood on tip-toes and snagged it.  
  
Whiskey. Nice.  
  
Mood considerably lightened, he made the sandwiches, grabbed two bottles of water and plopped the whiskey bottle right in the center of the tray.  
  
Moving easier now with the food, he slid into the guest room without any rattling from the tin tray. A big improvement over the last few days. Maybe he'd have made an okay waiter after all.  
  
Jesus was sitting on the edge of the bed wearing nothing but a pair of briefs, tugging sweatpants up his slim, muscular legs. Miles of smooth, pale skin assaulted Daryl's eyes, making him stutter to a stop. He stood frozen in the doorway, helplessly staring as the younger man's muscles flexed and bunched with effort to pull on his pants with his hurt shoulder. Daryl swallowed hard then cleared his throat to announce his presence.

Jesus's face lit up when he saw Daryl, making the older man's stomach swoop uneasily. He wasn't yet used to the other man's easy acceptance. Especially given he himself was still struggling with their newfound friendship. Jesus greeted him, his easy smile turning predatory when he zeroed in on Daryl's flushed face and nervous demeanor. The blatant show of exhibitionism that followed left no doubt that Jesus had guessed the cause of Daryl's unease. Daryl's shifting eyes landed on every part of the room except Jesus in an effort to keep from watching as the younger man took his sweet time getting his pants on.  
  
"What you got against clothes?" Daryl huffed in annoyance, as he tried not to stare at his still-naked chest. Jesus wasn't bashful, that's for damned sure. Daryl had seen more of the younger man than he felt comfortable with these last few days.  
  
"It's hot in here," Jesus shrugged. "You don't knock, so don't complain about what you're seeing," he scolded playfully, making Daryl flush. He indicated the dinner tray. "Thought you forgot about me."  
  
"Sorry 'bout that. Got stuck out on a run."  
  
"How'd you make out?"  
  
"Not what we'd hoped to find, but not a total loss either."  
  
Jesus nodded, looking over the tray. "Where's the roast?"  
  
"All gone."  
  
"Damn I should of taken them up on their offer for dinner while it was hot, and still available," Jesus mused.  
  
"Someone did come by then? I figured they forgot."  
  
"No. Rosita came by with a plate."  
  
"Weren't you hungry then?" Daryl asks curiously.  
  
Jesus shrugged, looking down at his pitiful sandwiches. "Maybe I wanted to wait for you, " he said with a playful wink, picking up a half a sandwich and taking a bite.  
  
"Couldn't go a day without makin' me step and fetch for you, huh?" Daryl shot back, trying hard to ignore the way his stomach had flipped a bit at that. He's fucking with you, he told himself irritably. Stop being stupid.  
  
Jesus barked out a laugh. "You caught me."

"Then peanut butter and jelly is all you deserve," Daryl taunted before childishly cramming his whole sandwich half in his mouth then realizing a second later it barely fit.

Jesus arched his eyebrows at him, watching with rapt attention as he somehow managed to chew and swallow the ridiculous wad of food in his mouth.  
  
"Impressive. Skills like that and you wonder why I wait to eat with you?" Jesus said, his eyes dancing with mirth. "Got any other tricks up your sleeve?" he asked just as a stray bit of jelly oozed out from between the bread slices to plop onto his bare chest. Jesus reached down absently to scoop up the mess with his finger and lick it off. Daryl eyes fixed on the pink tongue darting out between his plump lips before giving himself a mental slap. Then he remembered his whiskey-surprise and felt a flurry of excitement anticipating the younger man's reaction.

Daryl shot Jesus a sly grin, then with a theatrical flourish grabbed the whiskey bottle and presented it like a fine bottle of wine like he'd seen actors do in old black and white movies. Playful Daryl was a sight very few people got to see. For some odd reason, Jesus was bringing it out in him.  
  
"Packed full of surprises, Dixon," Jesus said, laughing at his antics.  
  
"No more than a swig for you though," Daryl pointed to him before sitting down next to him to hand him the bottle. "Don't mix well with the pain meds."  
  
"My last pill was yesterday," he argued, uncapping the bottle and smelling the whiskey. He tipped his head back and moaned in pleasure. Daryl swallowed hard at the sound.  
  
"No more pain pills, huh?" Daryl asked, his voice suddenly low and rough. He cleared his throat awkwardly. "That's good. Guess you won't be needing me no more then?" He found himself holding his breath for Jesus's answer.  
  
"You wish, " Jesus retorted. "You're not off the hook quite yet. Doc says rest it completely before our dealings with the Saviors. No unnecessary movement. Which means you, my friend, are still very much needed."  
  
"Great, " Daryl said gruffly before exhaling, his tone belying the relief he felt at the younger man's words.  
  
"Admit it Dixon, I've grown on you, " Jesus quipped, his eyes dancing.  
  
Daryl snorted, feigning an annoyance he didn't feel. Truth was, Jesus had grown on him, and that scared him. A week ago they were at each other's throats and now they were what? Friends? Seemed ridiculous, but he couldn't deny things were changing between them. Part of it he knew was due to their forced contact, but that wasn't all of it.  
  
When they were together, all his suspicions about Jesus would vanish in the face of those crystal blue-eyes and blinding smile. His family had been fooled by strangers before- to deadly ends. Trust did not come easy now. Yet Jesus was somehow the exception to that rule. If Daryl didn't know better he'd swear he was a witch or some other magic being sent to screw with him.  
  
Then he'd remember Rick, Glenn and even Carol had taken a shine to Jesus too. Making noises like he was already one of them, already part of their community. People he loved and trusted had sized the man up, and found him worthy. Therefore, he must be, despite Daryl's initial misgivings.  
  
"You've grown on me alright," Daryl finally answered. "Like a wart. "

"Was that a joke?" Jesus asked, barking out a laugh and shaking his head at the older man. "Never thought I'd live to see the day!"  
  
"Yeah well, keep it up and you might not 'live to see the day', smartass."

Still grinning, Jesus took a drink from the whiskey bottle. He grimaced as he swallowed it down. "Not as good as I remember," he admitted.  
  
"Dontcha drink?" Daryl asked.  
  
"I have. But it wasn't never my buzz of choice."  
  
"You a druggie?"  
  
"Just weed," Jesus admitted.  
  
Daryl nodded. "A pothead, huh?"  
  
"Yeah, I mean not everyday or anything. Just, my Dad was an alcoholic. Guess I thought it made me better than him or something if I didn't drink alcohol. I don't know...stupid."  
  
Daryl understood. He was well aware of all the terrible things that you tried to fix or forget, growing up with an alcoholic parent. He watched Jesus absently study the whiskey bottle's embossed label for a moment before he spoke. "Merle and me? We figured we'd show our old man that unlike him, we could handle our hooch. Of course we couldn't. Then after awhile, even the booze wasn't enough for Merle."  
  
"So, what was his poison?" Jesus asked  
  
"He wasn't too picky." Daryl huffed out a humorless laugh. "Started out with prescription drugs, then moved onto meth."

Jesus whistled low in surprise and sympathy. "Damn."  
  
"Yeah, " Daryl sighed.  
  
"But not you?"  
  
"No, never me."  
  
Jesus nodded. "My brother, Manny? He was a party guy. He liked his weed and his whiskey. But the real monkey on his back was gambling. The old man didn't leave much by the time he died but what he did, Manny blew through in less than a month after the funeral."  
  
"Gambling?" Daryl snorted. "Rich people problem."  
  
"True, " Jesus said, passing him the bottle. "But once you start gambling, that changes the 'rich' part real quick."  
  
Daryl took a long pull of the amber liquid. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. When he looked back up, Jesus's eyes were tracking his movement, focused intently. He felt himself begin to flush again and knew it wasn't from the booze. Ignoring the butterflies in his gut, he passed the bottle back to Jesus with a tip of his head. For a second Daryl thought the younger man would refuse a second drink, but he didn't.  
  
"What the hell, right?" Jesus mumbled, before tipping his head back and drinking deep. Daryl's watched him swallow, before moving his gaze lower to the defined lines of Jesus's bare shoulders, chest and abs. Catching himself fixating again,he flitted his eyes back to safer terrain before Jesus would notice.  
  
"Whoa now, slow down, you're gonna get sick if you're not used to it," Daryl cautioned reaching for the bottle. He noticed Jesus's long pull and figured a second drink might be too much. Their fingers brushed as he removed the bottle from Jesus's hands, and the skin-on-skin contact sent an unexpected twinge of heat to his groin.  
  
"Got you to take care of me, don't I?" Jesus said, grinning crookedly.

"Don't push your luck. This here's a temporary situation, " Daryl said pointing his finger back and forth between the two of them. Things had gotten way too cozy between them. Daryl felt uneasy about how much he was enjoying their forced contact and needed a reminder that things would be going back to normal soon.

"Shame," Jesus replied casually. His easy admission made Daryl's breath catch in his throat. "It's just...you remind me of the best parts of Manny, and it feels nice to have that again. I miss him everyday."  
  
"Best parts?" Daryl blurted out, immediately regretting it because it sounded like he was fishing. Fuck it, maybe he was. Jesus had just compared him to his brother and for some reason that thought just wasn't sitting right with him.  
  
"Manny wasn't perfect by anyone's standards, in fact most thought he was an asshole, but he did right by me. The man I knew was kind, caring and generous. He made me laugh, even when he wasn't trying too. " Jesus smirked warmly, making Daryl flush. He had admitted before that he often found Daryl unintentionally funny.

"Things were easy with him, effortless. People would say it was because we were blood but I knew a lot of people who never had anything close to that that with their own brother. I was lucky to have him in my life."  
  
Daryl studied his earnest gaze. His candor floored him. Moreover, Daryl knew exactly how he felt. It had been the same with Merle -the two of them against a world that never offered much besides heartache and pain. Merle took care of him, practically raised him. He wasn't perfect either, but he was the only one, in all those lonely years, that ever gave a rat's ass about him.

"I miss Merle too," he murmured, his voice coming out rough around a sudden lump in his throat. "Every day."  
  
Next thing he knew he was wrapped up in Jesus's surprisingly strong arms. Daryl froze ram-rod stiff in the unexpected embrace. The bare skin of Jesus's chest felt smooth and firm against him and his fingers positively itched to touch it, to see if those delicate swirls of hair were as soft as they looked. His heart started pounding and he swallowed hard, managing to restrain the impulse, but only just.

"You ok?" the younger man whispered, concern lacing his tone. His head was nestled against Daryl's neck, his warm breath ghosting over the bare skin as he spoke, making the older man fight not to shiver from the sensation.

Was he? Right now, he had no idea. Despite his unease, he seemed unable to pull back right away. He couldn't help but savor the physical contact, fleeting as it might be.  
  
"M'fine, " he finally said, forcing himself away."You?" He was reluctant to look the younger man in the eye, a little afraid of what he'd find there, but when he did, all he saw was concern.  
  
"I will be." Jesus sighed, then offered a comforting smile. "We will be."

It wasn't true, of course. There was no such thing as fine anymore, and definitely no 'we', but when Jesus said it, he could almost believe it. He tried to ignore the little lurch his heart gave at the thought.  
  
"You want another?" he asked, holding the bottle out to Jesus.  
  
"Nah. Let's stash it somewhere. We'll finish it together after this Negan business. To celebrate."  
  
"Alright," Daryl agreed screwing the cap back on.

He felt good. Not perfect, but better than he had since their fight. Jesus wasn't a bad guy, once you got to know him.

"You tired?" Jesus asked, as Daryl hid the whiskey bottle in the back of a dresser drawer.

"Nah. You?" he replied, returning to sit back down on the edge of Jesus's bed. He should really get some rest, but he was kinda wired and not yet ready to call it a night.

"God, no," Jesus snorted. "Been sitting on my ass all day doing nothing."

An image of Jesus's ass flashed through his Daryl's head just as his eyes caught again on the younger man's bare chest. Fuck. He needed a distraction. "You play cards?"

Jesus barked out a laugh. "Only you would ask that five minutes after I tell you my about my brother's gambling addiction."

Shit. "We don't have to..." Daryl muttered sheepishly. He obviously wasn't thinking straight.

"No it's cool," Jesus laughed. "Merle and Manny would be proud. We had some whiskey, now cards. An evening of vices. Shame we don't have any meth," he quipped.

"Or weed," Daryl added before biting his lip to stave off a grin.

Jesus raised one eyebrow at the older man. "You're a piece of work, you know that Dixon?" he scolded him, but his eyes were twinkling with delight.

"You miss it?" Daryl asked him curiously.

Jesus considered for a moment before answering. "Not really. I miss the freedom of getting high, drunk, what have you. Being able to let your guard down and just enjoy the selfish moment without the constant fear of being attacked nagging at you."

Daryl grunted his agreement, rubbing the heels of his palms into his tired eyes, then blinking a few times before meeting Jesus's steady gaze. "Almost forget what that's like. I've been lucky, but everyone gets their ticket punched eventually."

"You kidding?" Jesus scoffed. "You're a survivor. You'll probably outlive us all."

Daryl frowned at his words. Beth had once said the same thing to him. Sweet kid had meant it as a compliment. He knew Jesus did too, but it didn't make him happy to hear it either time. In fact, Daryl hated the very idea of it, being totally alone.

He knew there were things worse than death.

"Alright, lemme see," Jesus said, attempting to lighten Daryl's suddenly somber mood. He smacked his bicep lightly to get his attention. Then, he grasped his hand.

"What are you doing?" Daryl startled, looking down at their joined hands. He attempted to jerk his hand free, but Jesus gently but firmly kept hold. The younger man's strength and calm demeanor steadied him.

"Checking your life line," Jesus said matter-of-factly before turning Daryl's hand palm side up to study it. "Let's see how long you've got before your ticket gets punched."

"Palm reading? You serious?" Daryl gaped at him incredulously.

Jesus just smiled. "Hey, I'm no expert, but I do know a few things, " he said, slowly tracing his finger down the center of Daryl's open palm. Daryl bit his lip against the sensation, barely managing to stave off a gasp as a rebellious shiver rolled down his spine.  
  
Jesus's blue eyes bore into his own, tracking his obvious reactions with rapt attention. His pupils darkened as the very air around them seemed to shift and stir from the seemingly innocent touch.

Jesus moved closer to Daryl, much closer than was necessary to read the older man's palm. Daryl swallowed hard at the new proximity but didn't put any distance between them.

"This long line near the center is your life line, " Jesus murmured lowly, the deep base of his voice sending electric pulses thrumming through Daryl's blood as Jesus delicately curved his roving finger around the ball of Daryl's thumb, up and over, ending up at the base of the palm. "See?"

"What does that mean?" Daryl managed to croak out, his voice sounding a little like he'd been gargling thumbtacks. His heart was thumping loudly in his chest, just as his cock was beginning to stir in his pants.

"It means you'll have a long life. See? Told you so," Jesus answered, in a voice not much more than a low rumble. The look in his eye changing to something predatory as he stared. Heat flushed through Daryl from that look, and he swallowed audibly. Jesus tracked his reaction with rapt interest.

"That it?" Daryl managed to whisper.

"I know a little more if you're interested?" Jesus offered, his fingers still roaming over Daryl's hand.

Daryl shrugged like it didn't matter either way, when inside he was a total mess. Part of him wanting more touches, more everything, and fuck the consequences, the other part deeply shameful and desperate to hide his unexpected reactions from this man. He focused instead on breathing in and out, slow and easy, trying to calm his swiftly racing heart and will down his traitorous cock.

"The direction the line takes indicates that you're someone that people can count on in difficult times. A rock to those you love," he explained, the seductive quality of his tone never wavering, as his fingers continued tease across the flat of his hand.

"See these line breaks?" he murmured. "Here, here and here?" he indicated pressing lightly into the work-roughened skin of Daryl's palm. "Those indicate traumatic experiences that had major impact on your life's choices."

"Now, see this last bit of your life line? Its deep and solid. No breaks, " Jesus explained, his big blue eyes following those gentle fingers as they traced over and over the natural grooves in Daryl's skin. Every sensuous stroke was triggering deeper and stronger arousal in Daryl. He tried to follow what the younger man was saying, but it was impossible to focus with Jesus touching him like this.

"That's...good, right?" Daryl rasped, sounding as bewildered as he felt.

"Usually, yes," Jesus answered, his gaze locked on Daryl. He seemed entranced with how flustered the older man was getting.

Daryl cleared his throat. "What about these, you know...other lines? You got more for me?" he asked, trying and failing to sound nonchalant.

"Oh, I've got more- if you want it?" Jesus breathed out that last bit before tilting in close. The sensual note in his voice made Daryl look up. Jesus stared unabashedly at him, his eyes dropping down to Daryl's lips, leaving no mystery to the direction of his thoughts.

Out of reflex, Daryl snorted, both at the blatant innuendo and the eager look on Jesus's face. His heart wanted to beat out of his chest from that look. And his fucking cock was now so hard it ached.

Jesus studied him, then tilted in again. They were so close now that Daryl could feel the younger man's breath ghosting across his face, slight panting breaths like he too was struggling for control, his blue eyes full of what could only be desire.

Shit.

"We," Daryl began, swallowing past the thick lump in his throat- "we should maybe get those cards?" he finished lamely before breaking their gaze to lean back and away from Jesus.

First the hug earlier tonight, and now this? Daryl's head was spinning. They were straddling a line here that Daryl was only just realizing existed. He was just about to bolt when Jesus spoke up, his seductive voice from a moment ago changed into a light, friendly tone. "Hey, yeah. Cards. Let's do that."

Daryl exhaled in relief, bobbing his head in nervous agreement. "You good with poker?"

"I am."

"Good," Daryl said, free to stand up now that his unwanted erection was finally flagging. "I'll go get the deck."

"Ok. Oh, and Daryl? That other stuff?" He waved his hand around absently to indicate the aborted palm reading. "You know it's all just for fun? It's not anything to stress over."

"Yeah. S'just some bullshit," Daryl muttered. He knew damn well that Jesus wasn't just referring to the palm reading and was eager to push the whole awkward mess behind him.

"Sure," Jesus agreed. "Still, if you ever get curious," he added with a slight smirk, "there's definitely more to know."

Daryl froze like a deer in the headlights. What the hell was he offering, exactly?

Jesus's smirk split into a full on grin. "C'mon," he prodded, snapping Daryl out of his momentary stupor. "Go get those cards so I can kick your ass at poker."

Daryl snorted at his comment then made a bee-line out of the room, grateful for a private moment to calm the hell down. His heart was pounding and his nerves were still a jangly mess as he rifled through the cabinet where they normally kept the cards. He needed to knock this shit off and pull himself together. It was true that things had gotten a little...mixed-up between them, but luckily Daryl's time playing nursemaid would be ending soon and they would no longer be forced to be together. He located the cards and pocketed them, a sudden wave of sadness washing over him at that thought as he trudged back toward Jesus's room.

 


	4. Courage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rick weighs in.

"He's not ready," Rick insisted.  
  
"He's the only one who knows how to get there, Rick," Daryl retorted.  
  
"So have him draw us a map," Rick said with a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose with his two fingers in frustration.  
  
"Map's not enough," Daryl tried to explain. If it was that damn simple, Daryl would have just gone himself and Rick knew it.  
  
"It's only been six days, Daryl. He's still laid up..." Rick tried to reason with him.  
  
"He's getting around some already. Shoulder's much better, too," Daryl countered.  
  
"He can't run. If he had to, he couldn't run to save himself."  
  
"I've got him," Daryl stated bluntly.  
  
"What?" Rick asked.  
  
"I'll watch his back out there. I'll stay with him, hide him if things go south," Daryl clarified.  
  
"You're saying you'd risk your life for his? Why?"  
  
"You wanted me to trust him, didn't you?"  
  
"Yeah," Rick agreed hesitantly.  
  
"So, you were right."

Rick studies him for a moment then nodded his head. "Alright, he can go, but not for a few more days."  
  
"But -"  
  
"I'll have Denise check him tomorrow. She says he's good, then ok. But you'll need to stay with him every second out there," Rick ordered, squinting from the bright sunlight cutting a path across his face. He put a hand up to shield his eyes.  
  
"Good enough," Daryl agreed. "I won't leave him."  
  
"So, what changed your mind?" Rick asked, his head tilting in surprise.  
  
"He's the only one that's been in that compound. He's said it's too risky to go in blind, and I believe him. He's just doing what he needs to do to protect his people, same as us. How he goes about it ain't always the smartest, but he's not a bad guy."  
  
Rick nodded. "Good. And for the record, I agree with you."  
  
Daryl looked over to see the man in question working his way across the yard towards them on crutches. He's a determined little prick, Daryl thought, his lips twitching with amusement at the sight.  
  
"I'm glad you gave him a chance despite everything. I wasn't sure you would, knowing how he is."  
  
"What do you mean, how he is?" Daryl asked, looking toward Rick who was now watching Jesus crutch over to them.  
  
"So, what's the verdict?" Jesus asked anxiously when he was close enough, derailing Rick and Daryl's conversation.  
  
"We're gonna wait a day on that scouting run," Rick answered.  
  
"Not because of me, I hope?" Jesus asked, casting an anxious glance between the two men.  
  
"Not entirely, no," Rick added with some noticeable hesitance.  
  
"I'm ok now. Been resting my ankle like a good patient," he explained, indicating the crutches currently holding him up.  
  
Rick raised an eyebrow at him and smirked, shaking his head, gearing up to object.  
  
Jesus beat him to it. "I'm sore yes, but that's not going to change anytime soon. I can take it. We need to move forward, get a solid plan in place now."  
  
"We will," Rick assured him.  
  
"You have no idea what Negan is capable of, Rick. If we don't get the jump on him, we lose our advantage, we're all as good as dead. I can't be the reason for the delay. I won't."  
  
"You won't be."  
  
"Then let's go!" Jesus exploded. "Every minute we wait is costing us!"  
  
"We need a few more days," Rick reasoned.  
  
"Daryl?" Jesus looked toward the hunter. "Tell him how much better I'm doing?"  
  
"He knows," Daryl answered bluntly.  
  
Jesus glared at Daryl for not putting up more of a fight, exhaled sharply in disgust and angrily headed off, crutches thumping dully on the hard packed ground.  
  
"He's right you know," Daryl mumbled after Jesus had moved out of earshot. "Too many negatives to waiting."  
  
"Well what do you suggest then? Jesus is our only link to the Saviors' outposts. We know where their main community is but their armory, medical units, and storage facilities, are scattered. Hidden. Tactically brilliant of the pricks, and with their manpower alone, you know it's gonna be a fight. Once we hit them and they retreat, we need to make sure whoever's left has nothing to go back too, nothing to draw on to mount a counter-attack, cause we've only got enough bodies for one strike, and one strike only. We've got to make it count."  
  
"That's why we need to scout those locations now."  
  
"Are you gonna carry him? Cause you know they've got guards who will hear a motor coming from miles away."  
  
"Then we'll go at night. Tonight. Drive most of the way and yes, I'll get him there the rest."  
  
"And if you're caught?"  
  
"We won't be."  
  
"Daryl..."  
  
"It'll be dark. We'll hide. Lay low until morning if need be, then head back. We'll stay off the main roads, keep to the woods. Not saying it'll be easy, but it's doable."  
  
"It's risky," Rick argued.  
  
"I don't see another option," Daryl frowned.  
  
Hands on his hips, Rick looked down at the ground, lightly scuffing his boots as he considered their options. "If we wait a few more days..." he tried again.  
  
"Negan could get the jump on us. Rick listen, we know it's not ideal, but it's the best option. Once we have their compound mapped, it's game over for those pricks, but not if we wait and they beat us to it."  
  
Rick shook his head gently as he studied the toes of his boots.  
  
"The clock's ticking," Daryl implored his friend. "They're gonna come collecting their due at Hilltop soon. They're gonna want to know why no ones negotiating for their hostage. They'll know something's up. No way all that's just gonna slide. Not with this Negan asshole. Jesus says..."  
  
Rick looked up finally and met his eyes, a soft smile on his tired face. "Jesus says, huh? You hear yourself? You two make quite the pair."  
  
"Fuck you, man. It's your fault putting me on nurse duty."  
  
"Naw, it's good. Pain in the asses both of you," Rick finished with an affectionate grin.  
  
"He ain't wrong on this though. I wish he was."  
  
Rick sighed, then finally relented. "Ok. You win. Tell Jesus we need you both tonight. You'll take the two-door car, it runs quieter. I'll ready the council that plans are moving up. God help us," he finished, looking up at the sky, his mouth set in a grim line.  
  
Daryl nodded, turned on his heel to go, but paused and then turned back. "Why didn't you think I'd give Jesus a chance?"  
  
"Rick met his gaze and for a split second, a small, knowing smile played on his lips before he seemed to catch himself and suppress it. "Nothing. You're just- I'm just glad to see you two getting along."  
  
Daryl knew Rick was holding something back. And he knew his friend well enough to know if he pushed for it, he'd tell him. But he wouldn't push. Not now. Whatever it was, he didn't need another thing adding to the mess in his head. He needed to focus, he thought before walking away.

"Daryl?" Rick called after him before he was out of earshot.  
  
The hunter stopped and looked once again toward his friend, wondering if he changed his mind about keeping quiet on whatever it was he was holding back. Maybe he thought it was something Daryl needed to know after all?

"Just- take care of yourself, " Rick pleaded.

"Always do," he replied reassuringly before heading to find Jesus.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a shorty of a chapter. Should I post tomorrow to make-up for that? I'll be honest, this posting schedule is harder to stick too than I thought it would be.


	5. Panic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ask and you shall receive. I hope this chapter satisfies. :)

  
"Ok, stop here," Jesus said, pointing out the car window to a dilapidated brick building. It was situated close to the country road they'd been driving on the last five miles. It was late, but least there was a good moon tonight. They could see alright now, but once they were in the woods their visibility would be cut in half or worse.

"We close?" Daryl asked. He parked the car in back of the building, close as possible to shield it from any curious eyes who might happen by. Given the late hour and the fact that they were deep in Saviors territory, the chance of that happening was pretty slim. But they weren't taking any chances.   
  
"Close as we can be, " Jesus said, surveying their location as best as he could in the dim light. "We'll head northeast into the woods about a mile or so. The outpost should be just past the small creek."  
  
"Think you can manage it?" Daryl whispered as he exited the car and took in their new surroundings.  
  
"Hopefully," Jesus whispered back as he got himself out of the car. "That's why I've got you here, right? To carry my crippled ass."  
  
"Don't push your luck, " Daryl grumbled. "You ain't exactly light."  
  
Jesus grinned at him and shook his head. "With those arms? I think you can handle it," he quipped, eyeing Daryl appreciatively, before looking away to ready his weapons and gear.  
  
Daryl startled at Jesus's unexpected flattery, staring after him as he worked. He could feel his cheeks begin to heat up in embarrassment from being noticed in that way by the younger man.   
  
He was irritated that Jesus's off-handed comment had him so flustered. It's not like he hadn't been complimented on his physique before. He had, and recently too. A few women from Alexandria had let him know they were interested in much more than friendship with him. Seems the end of days left little room for shyness.   
  
He was flattered by the women's attentions of course, but mostly just ashamed because he didn't want what they were offering. He'd never been a horndog, even before. And now? He just felt broken inside, like even if he was interested, it wasn't gonna work. Rather than humiliate himself, it was easier just to say thanks, but no thanks.   
  
To hear Jesus compliment his body felt strange. Wrong. And after the other night, he'd had his fill of awkward situations with the younger man. Where Daryl came from, no one teased about stuff like that. It wasn't right, and it definitely wasn't funny.   
  
Fuck it. He'd just ignore it. He was getting sick of all these unwanted thoughts and feelings rattling around in his head the last few days, distracting him from what was truly important. They were here to do a job, best get to doing it.

He nudged Jesus's arm with the butt of his crossbow to get his attention. "Put your arm around my shoulder," he directed curtly. "I'll brace you as we go."  
  
"Daryl, I'm fine," Jesus whispered, his focus still on readying his weapons for the hike.  
  
"It's uneven ground. Don't need you tweaking that ankle now that it's finally healing up some," Daryl ordered gruffly.  
  
Jesus looked up warily at his tone. He looked like he wanted to say something to Daryl, but then thought better of it and simply nodded.

Daryl grabbed Jesus's outstretched arm and draped it over his shoulder so they could walk in tandem. He'd tried to steel himself against all the bodily contact this entailed, but he found out soon enough that he couldn't help but react anyway. He was all too aware of the warm, hard line of Jesus's body pressed firmly into his side as they moved along the route, and he realized the feel of it was searing itself into his memory, for what later use he didn't want to think on. Daryl ground his jaw together hard enough to crack teeth and kept moving, feeling an irrational anger at Jesus for making him feel this way.

Jesus whispered as they walked. "We're hoping to see guards. That way we know the building is still important."  
  
"Why wouldn't it still be in use?" Daryl asked, grateful to be focusing on their mission.  
  
"Saviors have been known to upgrade when they take over new communities," Jesus explained.  
  
Daryl grunted in understanding.  
  
They walked awhile in silence, maneuvering their way through increasingly dense underbrush as they went. It was slowing them down some, but Daryl knew they still had hours of darkness left to shield them. He hoped it would be enough to get them through.   
  
"You're like a heater, you know that?" Jesus whispered after another few moments of walking in tandem.  
  
Daryl side eyed him, but kept moving. It was night, but luckily the moon was bright. He could see the outline of buildings up ahead in the distance.   
  
"Seriously," Jesus continued. "Everywhere our bodies are touching, I'm hot. The other night when you crashed in my bed, I woke up covered in sweat. Not that I minded or anything. I liked having you close."  
  
Daryl stopped short and gaped at Jesus, a cocktail of embarrassment and anger bubbling up before he could even think to stop it. "Shut up," he growled menacingly.  
  
"What?" Jesus whispered back. He looked shocked at the malice in Daryl's tone.  
  
"Don't fucking talk like that! S'not right."  
  
"Okay," Jesus whispered placatingly, the hurt clear in his voice and body language. Daryl could feel him shrinking away from his side as much as he possibly could, to limit their physical contact.

Screw it, Jesus could just be upset. They weren't there to talk. They were there to map the compound, get Jesus's input as to which buildings to hit first, and which they could ignore altogether.

In awkward silence, they maneuvered their way as close as they dared to the compound. Once they were in position, Daryl pulled the tiny notebook and pen out of his vest pocket and shoved it at Jesus, hissing, "Stay where I can see you and if shit goes down, follow my lead. Understand?"

They younger man frowned, but nodded anyway. He took the book and immediately started sketching what he could see, adding pertinent notes as he went along. Every few minutes, they changed location to get every possible vantage point of the moonlit buildings. They worked in tense silence and were just about done when an angry male voice rang out in the distance. "How am I supposed to guard the perimeter when I don't have a damned working flashlight?"   
  
Daryl and Jesus froze, then crouched down low, eye-level with the underbrush so they still had some visibility.  
  
"Take better care of your stuff. You just got fresh batteries, " a second man answered him.   
  
The guards, Daryl thought, reaching for the notebook and pocketing it. He looked towards Jesus whose blue eyes were locked on his face. The younger man jerked his chin in the direction of the approaching guards as he pointedly gripped the weapon at his side, letting Daryl know he was ready for a fight if it came to that.

Daryl angrily shook his head no. Too risky. They'd stay hidden and wait it out.   
  
"Last week I got new ones!" the first man grumbled. "Damn batteries don't last as long as these shifts."  
  
"Shouldn't burn through 'em that fast. Light only goes on when needed. Not for the whole shift!"   
  
The guards were moving closer. Jesus looked antsy. Daryl was beginning to worry he'd make a move despite his instructions. He made another frantic motion for them to stay put, stay hidden. Under normal circumstances he knew Jesus could slip away like a damned ninja, but not banged up like he was now. Better to hunker-down, wait them out, then risk getting spotted.  
  
Jesus pursed his full lips and shook his head no angrily. He knew why Daryl was making them wait and he wasn't happy. He made a motion for Daryl to retreat back alone, to save himself, but the older man just shook his head. There was no way he was separating. No way he was leaving him.  
  
Stubbornly, Jesus turned away, against Daryl's clear instructions, and began maneuvering his way through the underbrush alone. Daryl was both angered by his audacity, and petrified for his safety as the guards moved closer and closer to where they were hiding.  
  
"I don't see as well at night," the first guard complained, just as the radio strapped to his belt came crackling to life. A feminine voice announced shift change in thirty minutes.   
  
"Then you need to be on cleaning duty or some shit like that before you get somebody killed. And turn that radio down! You wanna bring the roamers in?" the second guard retorted. Neither guard was in any hurry to head back despite the announcement.  
  
"Fuck you, man. You probably can't see well neither, but you're too stubborn to say so."  
  
The guards had moved closer to Jesus's hiding spot. They had to be right on top of him now. They were gonna find him and kill him, right in front of Daryl's eyes.

Daryl couldn't breathe. If he revealed himself, he could kill the one guard in seconds, but that would leave the second guard time to radio in the attack. Jesus would try to help, and would most likely be hurt or killed in the process. No way he could get them both out safe if they were discovered this far from home. His brain was spinning with all the possible scenarios, none of them good.  
  
This is why Rick had hesitated to let them go on this mission. He should have listened to him, but he didn't. Now it was too late. He'd just have to stay put and pray they weren't found out. It was maddening.  
  
"Goddammit!" the first guarded screeched. Thumping noises followed, indicating he'd lost his footing and had fallen.  
  
"What was that?!" the second guard hissed. "You ok?"  
  
Oh God, they found him. No, no, no! His cautious thoughts from only a moment ago were lost the instant he heard that guard cry out in alarm. He was ready to move before he could even form a conscious thought to stop himself, eager to rip both guards to shreds with his bare hands and to hell with the consequences.   
  
Daryl had promised to protect Jesus. This was all his fault. Panic seized him as visions of the others he'd lost flashed through his brain. Not again, not him.   
  
"M'fine, " the first guard finally answered, stilling Daryl's momentum. "Fucking ditch the size of the Grand Canyon over here! You see? This is why we need more light. This here's bullshit, " the guard complained, fumbling to right himself.   
  
The guard was so close that Daryl could hear him brushing the debris off his pants. He froze in his mid-crouch position, thankful for the thick covering of underbrush. He was sweating, muscles still trembling with the need to strike. He could barely contain the flurry of emotions coursing through his veins as the seconds ticked slowly by.   
  
After what felt like hours, but was probably mere moments, the guards finally readied themselves and vacated the area.   
  
Daryl was still locked in panic when Jesus returned to his side, the guards bickering voices fading away in the distance.  
  
"That was close, " Jesus panted, crouching as best he could next to Daryl, their bodies barely brushing in the dark.  
  
Daryl felt Jesus against his side, warm and solid and alive, and snapped. He lunged at the stunned man without warning, toppling him onto his back and onto the hard ground. He was dimly aware that Jesus was attempting to resist, but Daryl was having none of it. Within seconds he'd straddled the younger man and roughly pinned his arms overhead, immobilizing him.  
  
"Daryl...," Jesus gasped in shock. Daryl heard the younger man trying to reason with him, telling him everything was ok, but the panic pounding through him still had him crazed. He felt helpless against the emotions churning inside him.   
  
"Told you to stay by my side. Stay put!" he hissed furiously, squeezing Jesus's trapped wrists hard for emphasis. Jesus shifted beneath him, and Daryl's body flooded with heat. Furious, he pushed him down harder, struggling in vain to get some control over what was quickly becoming an uncontrollable situation. If Jesus would just fucking stop moving, then maybe Daryl could think straight.   
  
"One of us needed to get home and tell the others and we both know it wasn't gonna be me," Jesus argued. "Stupid for you to risk that. Stupid to sacrifice yourself."

"What about you, huh?!" Daryl spat out angrily. "You'd of sacrificed yourself, let yourself be killed?!" His voice cracked at the end, but he was too furious to be embarrassed about that now. because Jesus could have died. He could be dead and gone right now and that thought was just too much.

"Daryl," Jesus whispered when their eyes met, both crackling with emotion, and that was it. What little control Daryl had left snapped. With a broken whimper, he leaned down, just as Jesus surged up. Their mouths met in the middle, hot, desperate and wanting.  
  
They kissed rough and wet, again and again. Eager hands joined the fray, gripping and pulling, demanding closer, harder, more.   
  
Jesus deepened their kiss. He slid his tongue into Daryl's mouth and the sensation surged straight to his cock. Daryl's hips rocked forward of their own accord, making them both gasp.

"God, Daryl," Jesus groaned out, "you have no idea." His hands gripped Daryl's ass to pull him even closer aligning their bodies so Daryl couldn't help but feel that Jesus was hard for him. And fuck, the feel of his blatant desire sent a pulse of pure want shooting straight through Daryl's cock. He was suddenly so hard he could barely breathe.

Jesus twisted his head to find Daryl's lips again. His breath felt hot and damp as he panted against Daryl's mouth, little gasps and moans tumbling from both their lips as they thrust against each other, chasing more and more of the delicious friction.  
  
"Oh fuck," Daryl moaned into Jesus's neck. He ground his hips down just as the younger man rocked his up with purpose, squeezing Daryl's ass to bruise as they moved roughly together.   
  
Jesus's motions become erratic and more desperate. He managed to gasp out a warning that he was close, but Daryl's only response was a hopeless slew of whimpers and moans. Daryl was lost, drowning in pleasure so potent that he could do nothing but just feel it. He tried to get some control over himself, but the waves kept overtaking him, dragging him back under with every stroke of Jesus's tongue, every upward grind against his throbbing cock. All he could manage was a pained, shocked gasp before his orgasm crashed through him, leaving him twitching and shaking from the intensity.  
  
Jesus thrust against him one more time, then he was right there with him, adding to the wet heat spreading between them, Daryl's name a whisper on his lips.   
  
For a long time after, neither of them moved. Daryl panted into the skin of Jesus's neck as he came down. His brain was a jumbled mess. What the fuck had he just done? He could feel the younger man still clutching his ass, holding on possessively, as his own breathing returned to normal.   
  
Jesus wrapped his arms around Daryl's back, squeezing tight with a happy sigh. Daryl stiffened during the hug, but quietly waited it out before pulling himself up and off Jesus and onto his back on the forest floor.

He stared up at the bright stars trying to process what just happened but he couldn't. He'd never wanted to acknowledge his attraction to men. He'd slept with women, for fuck's sake. He'd figured that was enough to count as straight. But that out of control moment with Jesus felt more right than any other sexual experience he'd ever had. And the come drying in his boxers was solid evidence that couldn't be refuted. This should never have happened. It was a mistake.

Jesus snuggled in close, humming contentedly, seemingly unaware of the sudden change in the Daryl. He reached out to stroke over Daryl's shirt, and the older man rolled away, moving quickly to stand.   
  
"C'mon. We gotta go," Daryl said stiffly.  
  
"Oh. Yeah, ok, " Jesus replied, his confusion obvious and uncomfortable, as he moved to stand on still wobbly legs.   
  
He reached out for Daryl but the older man flinched back.   
  
The hurt in Jesus's face was evident. "My ankle?" he asked.  
  
Daryl hesitated a moment, then thought better of it and relented, moving awkwardly towards the younger man to brace him.   
  
Jesus bristled at his reaction, recoiling from his touch. "Just forget it."   
  
Daryl ignored him, grabbing Jesus's arm and draping it over his shoulder anyway before the younger man could pull away. Whatever he was feeling, he wasn't about to let Jesus hurt himself over it.

Jesus huffed an irritated sigh but let himself be supported. They moved through the woods in tense silence.

When they got to the small creek, Daryl moved them towards it.   
  
"Daryl?" Jesus whispered as the older man moved away from him and waded right into the chilly water, fully clothed, drenching himself from the waist down.   
  
Daryl cupped handfuls of water, brushing at his crotch area, attempting to erase all evidence of their encounter. Jesus watched him with sad eyes, then waded into the water and followed suit.

 

 


	6. Desire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath

They found their hidden car just as they left it. Daryl took a moment to remove the small branches and other debris he had placed around it to help camouflage it from any curious eyes. At quick glance anyone would think it was just one of the countless abandoned cars littered across the landscape, unused since the virus spread.  
  
Car cleared, they moved inside. Daryl started the engine. He was back on the road, headlights off, when Jesus finally broke the silence.  
  
"Are you gonna talk to me?" he asked.  
  
Daryl sighed, but didn't look at him, just stared straight ahead, eyes following the moonlit country road.  
  
"Fine," Jesus huffed. "Then you can listen."  
  
Daryl swallowed nervously before jamming his thumb nail between his teeth, giving the raw skin there a rough tug until he felt a trickle of blood flow. The pain was grounding, something else to focus on. He didn't want to talk or listen. The walk back with Jesus, standing close, feeling his breath rise and fall as he moved, smelling his scent, thinking about what had just happened, was maddening enough. He just wanted to forget.  
  
"I'm not sorry about tonight," Jesus began, the hurt evident in his voice. "I like you, in spite of the many reasons I have not to."  
  
Stubbornly, Daryl stared straight ahead, ignoring the spark of hope blooming in his chest from Jesus's words.  
  
"You like me, too." Jesus insisted. "Don't let what happened tonight change that. We're still- friends, right?"  
  
Daryl side-eyed him, his hands gripping the wheel tightly as he drove.  
  
"I need to know if you've still got my back tomorrow. Going up against the Saviors, we'll need everyone."  
  
Daryl turned and gaped at him. "'Course I got your back!"  
  
Jesus stared ruefully at him, sizing him up before he turned to look out the passenger window. "Ok," he finally sighed.  
  
Daryl swallowed hard, and kept driving. What kind of asshole did he take him for?! Flashes of their memories together flickered through his brain. True, there'd been some really rough moments, but they'd moved past that, had found common ground. They were friends. And even if they weren't, when push came to shove, he'd still protect him. Jesus had to know at least that much!  
  
Didn't he?  
  
Alexandria's wall loomed ahead of them in the moonlight. Daryl pulled in close, then slowed the car to a crawl while flashing the headlights five times to signal their return. The gates rumbled opened and they drove inside.  
  
Rick was waiting for them with Glenn and Michonne. They made their way to their house, Michonne supporting Jesus this time around.  
  
"You're wet," she said to Jesus curiously.  
  
"There's a stream in the woods on the way. We should avoid that next time," Jesus said. Not a lie, but not the whole truth either.  
  
Rick peppered Daryl with questions and he did his best to keep up. While he and Jesus were scouting, the group was preparing. They would attack next day at dusk.  
  
"It's almost morning now. I need you two fed and rested before we go."  
  
"How about you?" Daryl asked. "Ain't you been up all night?"  
  
"I have," Rick smirked at his friend. "Thanks for checking, Mom."  
  
Daryl snorted, and looked down at his feet.  
  
"Don't worry. We'll rest up too. We're running shifts for rest and prep so that even those staying behind are alert in case things don't go as planned," Rick explained.  
  
Rick looked over at Jesus who was just heading into their house with Michonne. "How'd he do?"  
  
Daryl scuffed his shoe on the ground, suddenly engrossed in watching the dirt he dislodged fly. "He did ok. Ankle's still holding him back some. Now that you've got his notes, he should stay behind."  
  
"I need him, remember? He's the only one that's been inside that place."  
  
Daryl sighed. "Yeah."  
  
"You alright?" Rick asked. He ducked his head to look into Daryl's eyes.  
  
"Just tired," Daryl answered evasively. And he was. Sick and tired of everything all of a sudden.  
  
"Alright then," Rick said hesitantly, as if he wanted to push but thought better of it. "There's food in the kitchen, then get some rest. Someone will wake you when you're needed."  
  
Daryl nodded, then headed inside.  
  
When he got to the kitchen, he was relieved to see he was alone. A bowl in the sink was the only evidence that Jesus had already ate and left. Daryl sighed gratefully. He didn't want to see the younger man until he had to. He just wanted to eat, clean up, and crash. Hopefully he'd sleep deep, the kind of rest where you don't remember your dreams and you're mind is completely blank. A few hours break from his own thoughts sounded like heaven right about now.  
  
Food eaten, he made his way to the closest shower, also blissfully empty. He locked the door then peeled off his damp, filthy clothes. His underwear stuck a little, despite the dunking in the creek. He gingerly removed them, losing only a few pubic hairs in the process, and headed into the hot shower.  
  
He showered, then brushed his teeth. He studied himself in the misty bathroom mirror. He expected he'd look different somehow, like Jesus's touch had not just screwed with his head, but had somehow changed him physically. He squinted at the glass, but it was the same old ugly mug that always greeted him staring back. Nothing had changed.  
  
Fucking ridiculous. He angrily swiped his hand across the foggy mirror before tightening the towel around his waist and heading down the hall to bed.  
  
\------------------------------  
  
An hour later, he was still lying in bed, staring at the ceiling. His brain wouldn't even slow down let alone turn off long enough for him to get some rest. Before he knew it, the sun was coming up. Daryl guessed it to be about 6am. He could see the bright sunlight peeking through the sides of his room's darkening shades. He could hear people beginning to move around outside. Might as well see what they were up to since he wasn't sleeping.  
  
Flinging off his blanket, he padded to the window and pulled the shade back. He could see Aaron and Eric behind the larger box truck. It looked like they were loading supplies. Hard to be sure from this angle.  
  
He watched Aaron struggle to move a particularly heavy box before pushing it onto the edge of the truck's bed and shoving it the rest of the way in the back with his shoulder. Aaron pulled back, rolling his rotator cuff gingerly. Eric moved behind him, his hand moving automatically to rub at the sore spot. After a moment, Aaron turned his head and gave Eric a quick kiss of thanks.  
  
A sudden pang of longing caught Daryl off guard as he watched them work together, making him frown. He liked both men. They were decent and hard-working. Aaron was a crack shot and Eric made a mean plate of spaghetti. Both of them assets to the community. He never once cared that they were fucking. No, that was wrong, more than just fucking. Boyfriends.  
  
That was fine for them, and others who were into all that, but it didn't jive with anything he'd wanted to be true about himself. Which made what happened with Jesus all the more upsetting.  
  
Daryl shouldn't have wanted any of it. He should have said 'I'm flattered, but no thanks, like he did with those women who had propositioned him. But he didn't. Now he couldn't stop thinking about it.  
  
Merle used to tease him for not chasing tail. He'd had never been a pussy-hound like his brother, but he was no virgin either. He'd been with a few women, mostly to keep Merle off his back. Sex for him had been sadly disappointing. Over the years he found ways to avoid intimacy altogether rather than suffer anymore awkward encounters. It was easier that way, but kind of lonely. The only real relationship he ever had, the only constant in his life, had been Merle. After awhile he figured he wasn't cut out for anything more than that.  
  
Then he died, but Daryl wasn't left alone. He still had family in Rick, Carol, Glenn, Maggie and the others. People that cared for him and had his back. Better people than Merle had ever been, but it still wasn't the same. Daryl figured it never would be again. Then he met Jesus. The man had been a colossal pain in his ass from day one. He was brash and as hell but he also made him laugh  
  
In spite of the circumstances, and everything else that had happened these last days, Daryl liked Jesus. It would be easier if he didn't, but he did. Once they put aside their differences, they'd just clicked. Part of it, he knew, was a shared history of abuse. But it was more than that. He respected the younger man, how he'd adapted, what he'd had to do to survive. In a ridiculously short time, he had become one if them. A brother. Like Rick or Glenn.  
  
Only, it definitely wasn't brotherly feelings that had him kissing him, humping against him, then shooting off in his pants like a horny kid.  
  
A soft knock at his door interrupted his thoughts. He dropped the window shade back down and turned to see who it was. Of course, it was Jesus. The younger man didn't wait for an invite, just slipped inside, closing the door behind him.  
  
"The spare room's right below this one. Heard you walking around up here and figured you weren't sleeping either," he said, walking hesitantly towards him, like he wasn't quite sure what Daryl might do if he got too close.  
  
Daryl wasn't sure himself.  
  
"You ok?" he asked sincerely, staying a safe distance.  
  
Daryl walked to the bed and sat down on the edge. Elbows on his knees, he rubbed at his tired eyes with the heels of his palms before scraping them down his face, and resting his chin on them. "No," he finally grunted.  
  
"Figured as much," Jesus sighed, then hesitantly moved closer still, stopping just a few feet short from where Daryl was sitting.  
  
Daryl looked up at him. Jesus stayed where he stopped. It was clear that the younger man wasn't going to come any closer, wasn't going to push his luck and risk Daryl kicking him out before he said his peace. After everything that had happened, Daryl couldn't help but snort at the thought of a suddenly timid Jesus, worried about what Daryl might say or do.  
  
"Yeah. I'd say I'm sorry but I'm not, you know ?"  
  
Daryl squinted at him, searching his open face for any hint of guile, and finding none. It was just Jesus, same as before. Same as he'd always been, he guessed.  
  
"I am sorry that you're upset, " Jesus admitted. "I never meant to hurt you."  
  
"I know." Daryl exhaled, trying and failing to simplify the million or so confusing thoughts rolling around his brain into something that made sense.  
  
"We can just forget it? Go back to how things were between us?" he said, moving to sit down next to Daryl.  
  
"Not likely," Daryl muttered.

Jesus lips curved into a tentative grin. "It was something, wasn't it?"  
  
"Fuck," Daryl said on a gust of air, as he laid back against the mattress, his forearm covering his eyes.  
  
Jesus snorted in sympathy. "Yeah."  
  
The silence grew between them until Jesus broke it, lying back on the mattress as well to gather his thoughts. "Tonight will be rough. I know your group has dealt with others, but these Saviors, they're a whole different level."  
  
Daryl frowned. The abrupt change of subject threw him for a moment. "Your people have said torture's in their wheelhouse."  
  
"It is. They're ruthless. People are gonna die tonight, Daryl." He sighed sadly, like it was a foregone conclusion, and fuck, maybe it was.  
  
Daryl turned his head to look at him. Jesus was still staring up at the ceiling.  
  
"I could die tonight. Hell, you could die tonight, too. I know you don't want to hear this now and that my timing sucks, but I need to say it because it might very well be my last shot," Jesus said on a breath, like he had to get it all out quickly or lose his nerve. "I wanted you, right from the start. Hell, even when I didn't like you, I still wanted you. But I put it away, thinking it would never happen. Self-preservation, you know?"  
  
Daryl froze, listening so hard he was barely breathing.  
  
"Then things changed, and I tried my best not to hope it meant more than friendship, but it was different with you. So much more that it was hard not to hope. Hard not to think that maybe you felt it too. I never expected anything. That's not why we...that not why we're friends. We're friends in spite of it actually."  
  
Daryl couldn't answer. He swallowed nervously, his Adam's apple bobbing from the motion. His heart raced so fast it felt like it could pound right out of his chest.  
  
"Now?" Jesus continued. "You're all I can think about. I need you to know that what happened wasn't just me looking to get off. You mean more than that to me."  
  
Jesus reached out for his hand but Daryl flinched back. "I can't," he argued, shaking his head in denial. "What you're asking..."  
  
"I'm only asking for today," Jesus pleaded softly. "Just give me today."

"Don't you think I want it too?" Daryl admitted. Then immediately sucked in a shocked breath, stunned by what had just come out of his own mouth. He wanted to take it back, say he didn't mean it, but he couldn't.

He couldn't lie to himself anymore. He couldn't deny it was the truth.

"So, do it! Take a chance. God, just- please."

Daryl thought about all the reasons why he couldn't. A lifetime of thinking a certain way, knowing what he was, and what he wasn't. He thought of all the lonely days, all the lonely years, thinking something real wasn't meant for him.

Daryl looked at this man beside him, and he looked back. Only, Daryl didn't just look at Jesus, he saw him. He saw this brave man, taking a chance, offering himself to Daryl. How could he deny him, when he wanted him too?

The fog in Daryl's head finally cleared and he realized with complete clarity for the first time since all this started that everything from before didn't matter anymore. All that mattered was this moment. A chance for something real.

Maybe the only chance he'd ever get.  
  
Jesus reached out again, and this time Daryl didn't flinch. Jesus softly linked their fingers, giving the older man a reassuring squeeze before tugging him close once more. Daryl went willingly into Jesus's embrace, almost sobbing with relief at how good it felt to be near him, to touch him. How right. More right than anything had ever been.  
  
"I'm not- I don't..." Daryl started anxiously, his insides a churning mix of lust, joy and fear.  
  
The younger man silenced him with a chaste kiss and a soft smile, making Daryl shudder. "I've got you." he whispered. "Trust me?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone who is following along with this story.   
> I'm truly touched by every single kudos and comment given. Hugs!!  
> Only two chapters left, and you're gonna want to 'mind the tags'. ;)


	7. Trust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here we go! :)

  
"I trust you," Daryl admitted roughly.

"Took you long enough," Jesus's teased as his hands roamed possessively over Daryl's bare arms.

Daryl snorted at that, offering up a shaky, lopsided smile.  
  
"God, I want you, Daryl. So much."

"I- I want you too," Daryl confessed, even though the words tasted foreign in his mouth.

"Tell me what you want," Jesus urged, before leaning in close to place gentle, open-mouthed kisses down the side of Daryl's neck.

Daryl sucked in a deep, shaky breath. How was he supposed to think with Jesus's plush mouth on him? The warm, wet softness of his lips contrasted deliciously with the coarse, rasping hair of his thick beard. And damn, something so different shouldn't feel so good, but it did. It felt more than good actually. Jesus had barely touched him and Daryl was already getting hard for him, helpless to do anything except feel the pleasure Jesus was so effortlessly sparking through him.

What did he want? Daryl would be lying if he said the question didn't give him pause, but dammit, he'd just pushed aside every inhibition he'd ever had. This was their moment and Daryl wanted it. Jesus was right when he said they may never get another. No more fighting it. It was impossible to imagine putting the breaks on now anyway, not when his body was already on fire for him.

"I want everything," Daryl blurted out boldly, before he had a chance to second-guess himself.

Jesus chuckled against his fevered skin before pulling back, crystal blue eyes boring into Daryl's, while his fingers traced the damp path his mouth made along Daryl's neck. "Everything, huh? We'll see..."

After another lingering kiss on the lips, Jesus stood, then walked to the bedroom door to lock it. The house was eerily quiet. Everyone likely still asleep, or already outside, gearing up for the coming battle. Jesus limped slightly as he moved, but it was barely noticeable compared to what it had been those first awkward days.

He watched Jesus walk back toward the bed. The morning sunlight that filtered in from the edges of the dark curtains played over the lines of his body as he moved. A strong surge of emotion rolled through Daryl as he stared, surprising him in it's intensity. He didn't think it was possible to feel so much. He knew most people did, at least talked like they did, but he never had. He thought that he was incapable of such things. Looking at Jesus now, he realized how wrong he'd been.

"What are you thinking about?" Jesus asked, before sitting back down next to Daryl on the bed. His tone wavered, like he was concerned that at any moment Daryl could still lose his nerve and pull away from him.

Daryl covered Jesus's hand with his own warm one, hoping to reassure him. "M' thinking about all this. Us."

Jesus's worried face melted into a smile. "Us? I like the sound of that," he said before leaning in to kiss Daryl's mouth once again.

Daryl's breath caught when Jesus tilted his head to deepen their kiss. His slick tongue slid in against his own, hot and insistent, making Daryl's nerves sizzle before he cupped his face and pulled back to look at him.

"I know this isn't easy for you," Jesus began huskily, stroking gentle fingers down his bearded cheek. "But I wanted to tell you how happy I am, that you're here with me, before I start to lose myself... in this," he leaned in to softly kiss Daryl's lips, causing his pulse to pound.

"And this," Jesus whispered, dragging his lips over to just below Daryl's ear eliciting a quiet moan from the older man.

"And this," he whispered, deftly unbuttoning the two top buttons of Daryl's shirt then leaning in to mouth along his bare collarbone. Daryl arched against the sensation, eager for whatever Jesus was willing to give.

When their eyes met again, Daryl's lips quirked up into a shy smile. "M'not going anywhere."

"Like I'd let you leave now," Jesus teased.

Daryl smirked at him. "Big talker, " he said, regaining a little confidence. He grabbed Jesus's hand and boldly placed it on his own thigh. "Show me."

Jesus looked down at his own hand, and gave Daryl's thigh a possessive squeeze. "Want to see all of you," he murmured thickly. He waited for Daryl's nod before he began undressing him. Jesus's eager fingers reached for him, unbuttoning and unzipping Daryl's pants, pulling them over the swell of his ass, then yanking them down and off, mouthing soft kisses along the way as he went.

"You too," Daryl gasped, as Jesus's hands reached to work on Daryl's remaining shirt buttons. "Wanna see you too."

"Yeah?" Jesus asked breathlessly, sliding Daryl's sleeveless shirt off his broad, muscular shoulders to pool haphazardly on the bed behind him.

"Yeah," Daryl whispered, his voice thick.

"Okay." Jesus grinned at him, stealing a kiss before working fast to remove his own clothing. Daryl helped where he could, yanking and pulling to get them both down to cotton briefs, already tenting with their bulging erections.

Jesus growled at the sight of their twin arousal, before fusing their mouths together, rough and bruising. His hands glided down Daryl's naked back, eager to explore every bit of warm skin he'd just unveiled. They panted hot, moist breath, into each other's mouths as they kissed, struggling for air around eager tongues and clacking teeth. Through it all, Jesus's sure touch never wavered, continuing to stroke across Daryl's heaving sides, then back up his muscular torso, little flames licking over every ounce of flesh along his determined path. As if, now that he finally could touch Daryl, he never wanted to stop.

After a few heady moments, Daryl found the courage to touch Jesus back. He thought it might feel strange, touching Jesus like he's only ever touched women. Instead, the hard planes and firm muscle of Jesus's body, the broadness of his hands on him, ignited his senses the way those women's soft curves never did. All he was thinking now was yes and more.

Daryl lifted his hand to Jesus's naked chest, relishing the feel of soft hair and hard muscle. He remembered something he liked to do to himself, and circled a thumb over one of those taut pink nipples. Jesus moaned into his mouth, and Daryl thrilled at the sound. He did it again, giving it a little pinch as well, and this time Jesus groaned, "Daryl, " and thrust against him urgently.

The rush of power was overwhelming - he did that to Jesus. He'd made him feel that way. He wanted to do it again.

He pulled Jesus closer, pressing their groins together tightly, and Jesus's breathing stuttered into desperate little pants, hips rolling back and forth rhythmically into Daryl at an increasingly frantic pace.

Jesus moaned at the contact, his breath coming in enticing little pants now as his hips rolled back and forth rhythmically against Daryl, seeking more of the same delicious friction he'd initiated.

"Damn," Jesus exhaled on a wry chuckle before pulling back to reach down and remove Daryl's last barrier. Hooking fingers into the waistband of Daryl's briefs, Jesus slithered them down and off, leaving him completely naked. He gazed unabashedly at every inch of Daryl's bare body before crowding back in close, stopping just short of rocking into him again.

"Look at you," Jesus breathed. "So beautiful."

Daryl flushed at the compliment. He looked down the narrow space separating their bodies, his breath hitched once in his throat, then escaped on a low, steady whine as Jesus slowly trailed his hand down Daryl's chest, over his stomach, then lower still to wrap around the base of his erect cock.

"Oh, fuck," Daryl hissed, as Jesus moved his hand slowly up and down his rigid shaft. The feel of Jesus actually touching him there for the first time, skin on skin, inflamed him. Jesus's blue eyes bore down on him, dark with lust as he made Daryl twitch and shift with every delicious stroke and way too quickly Daryl was right on the edge.

"You're so fucking perfect like this, Daryl," Jesus murmured roughly, his movement starting to speed up, just as his other hand reached lower to caress Daryl's balls.

"S- stop." Daryl groaned, his abs flexing back roughly, flinching just enough to still Jesus's busy hands before it was too late.

"You ok?" Jesus rasped, gazing at him with lust-drunk eyes.

"S'too good," Daryl panted low, embarrassment coloring his already flushed face. "Don't wanna come yet."

Jesus exhaled in relief then nodded, fighting to keep the smile out of voice when he said, "Don't want that either. I haven't had nearly enough of you."

Giving the older man a moment, Jesus finished undressing by removing his own briefs. Daryl's eyes zeroed in when Jesus's erection bobbed free. The older man had never been ashamed of his equipment and he could plainly see that Jesus didn't need to be either. Daryl's was thicker, but the younger man's cock was longer with a delicate curve that pointed right at Daryl, as if begging to be touched. Daryl didn't ask permission before reaching out to cup his palm over Jesus's hot, firm flesh.

Jesus's surprised gasp turned to a groan when Daryl's innocent exploration quickly became deliberate. Daryl wrapped his fingers around him and stroked, like he would do to himself, like Jesus just did to him. Rhythmic, purposeful strokes over satiny, hard flesh that had Jesus gripping Daryl's bicep, while biting his own puffy lips, in an attempt to stifle how fucking loud he was getting. Daryl smugly doubled his efforts, enjoying way too much how the younger man was reacting to his touch.

"God, Daryl!" Jesus begged, gasping for breath before reluctantly coaxing Daryl's hands off of him.

"Proud of yourself?" The younger man panted around a grin, seeing the blatant look of pride on Daryl's face.

"Uh-huh," Daryl smirked.

Then Jesus kneeled down eye-level with his crotch and successfully knocked the smirk off Daryl's face.

"Been dying to taste you," he murmured, gazing up at Daryl, his eyes full of raw hunger. Daryl bit his lip as Jesus leaned in and wrapped those plush, red lips around the head of his cock. His mouth was perfection; hot, tight and slippery wet. His talented tongue had Daryl immediately thrusting up, seeking more of what he was giving him. He let out a hoarse cry before digging his fingers through Jesus's long hair to get an anchoring grip on his skull.

Jesus looked up at him. The sight of those crystal blue-eyes staring at him made him want to shoot off right then. Daryl squirmed in bliss as Jesus worked him over. Desperate, erratic movements punctuated with unguarded noises rumbled through him. Pleasure sounds escaped his lips in a way that should have been mortifying, but wasn't. It felt so fucking good Daryl couldn't muster the energy to be embarrassed.

Jesus pulled off with a wet pop, "You close?"

"Yeah," Daryl groaned. Was he kidding? He'd been close since they started. It was a miracle he managed to hold on this long. It seemed like everything the younger man did was tailor-made to drive him crazy with need.

Jesus chuckled low, staring at the desperate look on Daryl's face. "I could keep going. Want too...but I want more of you."

Daryl's cock gave a little twitch at that, a bead of precome suddenly appearing, glistening at the slit. Without hesitation Jesus leaned in to lick it off, then stroked Daryl up from base to tip to tease out more of the warm, salty fluid for him to savor. Daryl hissed, and his gut clenched tight with the effort to hold himself back from such an erotically vulgar display. Fucking hell.

"Much more of you." Jesus growled, before pushing a surprised Daryl back onto the mattress and hovering a few inches over him on his forearms. He could feel the heat radiating between their flushed bodies. "God, I want every piece of you."

Daryl felt panic roll through him at the younger man's lustful words. He wanted him too, but he'd never, he wasn't sure...

"Relax," Jesus soothed, sensing Daryl's panic. "Let me show you how good we can be."

Daryl watched wide-eyed as Jesus spit onto his fingers before reaching back behind himself.

Oh.

"Wait." Daryl rasped, his voice rough with desire as he stretched his arm back to reach his discarded vest. Fumbling blindly through the front pockets, he grinned when he found what he was looking for. He opened his palm to reveal a tiny plastic vial, not much bigger than a lip balm tube.

"Coconut oil," Daryl said, answering Jesus's questioning look, "for my crossbow."

Jesus grinned, and leaned down to kiss Daryl's lips before opening the vial and coating his fingers with it. The younger man hummed his approval as the solid oil was quickly turned liquid from his own body heat.

Daryl stared, mesmerized as Jesus resumed touching himself with his now glossy fingers, moaning as he slowly rocked back against his own hand, careful opening himself up.

"You like that?" Daryl whispered, his cock throbbing as he watched.

"Yeah," Jesus groaned, wiping his fingers on his discarded shirt. "Feels good...but you'll feel so much better," he promised, positioning Daryl's cock at his slick entrance. As he pushed steadily downward., Daryl sucked in a breath and held it as he felt himself slowly breaching insane tightness, inch by exquisite inch until Jesus was fully seated over him.

"Jesus," Daryl groaned out, completely overwhelmed with sensation, calling out to both his lover and any deity in the heavens responsible for this perfect bliss.

The younger man braced his hands on Daryl's chest and waited until the tension in his own face smoothed out. Jesus's eyes snapped open and fixed on Daryl who looked back at him in awe, his hands absently smoothing over Jesus's trembling thighs.

Then Jesus started to move, and nothing, nothing had ever felt so good. Within moments, Daryl was reduced to a shivering incoherent wreck. Exquisite sensations rolled through his body with every snap of their hips, every thrust. His whole world tunneled down to only the heat and movement of Jesus's body over his.

"Fuck- I can't. I'm gonna..." Daryl cried.

"God. Do it, Daryl. Come for me," Jesus begged.

Daryl did, shouting loud as it ripped down his spine and out, into Jesus's tight pulsing heat, nearly taking the air in his lungs with it as each jolt left him.

He watched, completely mesmerized as Jesus stroked himself once, then again, grunting out his own completion, painting Daryl's heaving chest with hot, thick pulses of come before collapsing over him.

For a long while, there was nothing except Jesus's warm weight and the cadence of their beating hearts. Daryl wrapped his arms around Jesus's shoulders and buried his face in his hair, savoring the closeness as they recovered. He felt Jesus start to shift off of him, and he clung tighter not wanting the moment to end.

Jesus huffed out a laugh. "I'll just be a second, I promise," he said dropping a kiss on Daryl's chest before gingerly untangling them, and flopping over into his back to reach again for his discarded shirt. He used it to clean them up and then snuggled back down against Daryl, his head pillowed on the older man's chest.

Daryl absently combed fingers through Jesus's hair as their heartbeats slowed and their bodies cooled, making the younger man rumble in contentment. Eventually, Jesus turned his head so he could look at Daryl. "I can hear how hard you're thinking, Dixon," he teased.

"Gave me a lot to think on," Daryl mumbled, his voice almost pure base.

"Regrets?"

"No," Daryl admitted hesitantly, like there was more he wanted to say.

"What?" Jesus asked knowingly, shifting somewhat so he could look into Daryl's eyes.

"You said you wanted 'everything'?"

Jesus studied him for a moment, as if trying to gauge his thoughts before answering so as not to spook him too much. "I do. I want everything with you, Daryl, but I'm willing to wait, to take things slow, whatever you need..."

Daryl interrupted softly, shaking his head. "I don't want slow. S'just, you know I ain't never..." He huffed out a breath, then ran frustrated fingers through his hair, groping for the right words, but coming up short.

"Daryl," Jesus said softly. "I do want more. I want to touch you, be yours. Wanna make you come every way I know how."

Daryl groaned low at the thought, and his spent cock gave a little excited twitch. He shifted slightly, relishing the feel of the younger man's body as it rested across his own. He breathed in his now familiar scent and sighed happily, dazed by the realization that yeah, he wanted all that too. Everything.

"God willing, we'll get the chance," Jesus said, then continued hesitantly. "If you want it too?"

Daryl looked down and met Jesus's heartfelt gaze with his own lopsided grin. He pressed a kiss firmly on top of Jesus's head as his answer.

"Not just today then?" Jesus clarified, running his fingers playfully over Daryl's chest, a hitch of vulnerability in his tone.

"Fuck, no," Daryl mumbled, wrapping his arms around the younger man. "Everything...as long as it takes."

"Probably take a good long while," Jesus mused happily.

Daryl hummed in contentment. "Sounds good to me."

\-------------------------------------

A few hours later, it was all hands on deck. There was activity buzzing all around as their people worked together to ready for the coming war.

Rick found Daryl and pulled him aside to give orders. "The first group will go in from the west. I need you and Jesus to head east, keep anyone else from joining their party until the second wave gets there. Understood?"

"We got it," Daryl answered

Something in his tone must have tipped Rick off, or maybe Rick just knew him too well. Whatever the reason, the leader cocked his head and paused, as if puzzling over the mystery that was Daryl Dixon.

"We, huh?" Rick asked him with a smirk.

Daryl stared hard at his friend. Lying never crossed his mind, but he couldn't help but worry about what Rick would think once he knew the truth about him. Would the best friend he ever had be disappointed...disgusted? Steeling himself for a negative reaction, he spit out, "Actually...yeah. We."

Rick face momentarily clouded with confusion, like he hadn't expected Daryl to actually answer him. Then the confusion cleared, leaving a huge shit-eating grin in its wake.

"Really?" Rick drawled, teasing the word out into multiple syllables.

Daryl visibly relaxed at the sight of his friend's genuine smile. "Surprised?" he huffed out.

"Not really," Rick mused.

"Good. Can we stop gossiping then and move on with the plan?" Daryl asks crossing his arms in front of his chest to let his friend know the subject was now closed.

He wasn't dumb enough to think that was the end of the questions. With war upon them, he trusted Rick to understand that now was not the time to be dissecting his newfound love life. Still, he felt his face heat up with embarrassment.

"Yeah, we can," Rick answered, tactfully ignoring Daryl's suddenly beet-red face. "For now, anyways."

"Alright, let's get movin'. Heading out in twenty!" Daryl ignored that last bit, and called out loudly to the assembled teams.

Rick clapped his hand on Daryl's shoulder. Their eyes met and the leader gave him an affectionate squeeze as their people scurried around them, readying themselves for war.

  
The End. :)

 

btw - an epilogue will be posted on Wednesday.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While I was writing this chapter, Lecherous_Portmanteau coincidentally  
> posted some amazing [Daryl/Jesus](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6390328/chapters/14632243) artwork that seemed tailor-made for this story.  
> Thank you, Lecherous_Portmanteau, for allowing me to share your gorgeous work!  
> Make sure you check out both chapters on the link. Enjoy!


	8. Love  (epilogue)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the end of this story. Thank you to everyone who took time out of their day to read it, leave a kudos and/or a comment. It truly meant the world to me! :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning - mentions of major character death.

Epilogue

 

  
Six months later...

 

  
"Wait, fuck, stop!"

"What's wrong?" Jesus panted, pushing himself up on his forearms to peer down at Daryl.

The older man was a beautiful mess. His chest and neck were flushed rosy-red, blotchy in certain spots. His overlong, dark hair was plastered fan-like to the sweat soaked skin of his face and neck. He lay heaving on his back, his one leg bent up to his chest, the other sprawled open, thighs splayed-wide with Jesus nestled snug in between. "Too rough?" Jesus fretted. "I'll slow down..."

Daryl squirmed wantonly under him. "No," he groaned. "It's just...I'm gonna come."

Jesus looked momentarily surprised, then smiled indulgently, leaning down to nibble his lover's exposed neck. " _Oh_."

Daryl adjusted his head to look at Jesus. His blue eyes were glazed-over with lust, his lips kiss-swollen, and his chest heaved with the effort to control himself. He managed to whisper roughly, "Wanna wait for you."

Jesus kissed him, then murmured against his mouth. "Let me fuck you through it. Remember last time?"

Daryl shuddered at his words, showing Jesus that yes, he remembered very well.

Jesus smiled, trailing his lips over to nip at Daryl's ear. "Please."

Daryl wrapped his arms around Jesus's back. "Hell yeah," he groaned.

Jesus obliged, pumping his hips again into Daryl's tight, welcoming heat. He thrust into him over and over, watching Daryl's reactions closely, tailoring his pace to keep him on the edge, gasping and writhing like a desperate thing underneath him.

"God Daryl, you're so fucking hot like this," Jesus groaned, punctuating the last few words by snapping his hips forward hard, forcing desperate whimpers from Daryl with every single thrust.

Jesus reveled in how responsive Daryl was in in their lovemaking. It was always like this between them. So good, so right.

Dimly, through his haze of lust, Daryl could feel Jesus's pace begin to falter. Sensing he was close, Daryl let go of his last tether of restraint, and rocked up forcibly to meet his every driving push with abandon.

Daryl's muscles were tensed and strained. His red, rigid cock leaked a steady, trail of precome as it slid between their sweat-soaked, rutting bodies. Daryl's head began to rock from side to side, streams of whispered sounds escaping him with every labored breath as the pleasure became too much, too intense to take any longer. Jesus leaned down, switching the angle to drive into him harder, faster, putting even more delicious friction on Daryl's aching cock, and that was it.

" _fuckinloveyou!_ " Daryl gasped out before coming untouched, pulsing hot streaks of come in between their heaving stomachs.

Jesus's heard his fevered words, just as Daryl's body spasmed, vice-like, around his own swollen cock. He managed to thrust in one last time, crying out Daryl's name, before losing himself in the bliss.

"Fuckin' love you, too," Jesus sighed moments later in his post-orgasmic haze, hugging Daryl tight.

Daryl smiled, wrapping his arms around Jesus's waist when he tried to separate them, still needing him close. "Just one more minute?" he mumbled tiredly against his lover's sweaty skin.

"So greedy," Jesus teased him, but was happy to ignore the wetness between them for now, choosing instead to bask languorously in their hot, sticky embrace. And really, who even cared about the mess when this was the reward?

To think, he'd almost fucked it up. Daryl knew he wasn't easy to deal with, but Jesus had never given up on him. He had pushed and pushed until Daryl was forced to open his eyes to the possibility of something more than the life he'd been leading. And once he saw that possibility, everything changed. Jesus had saved him, from his former narrow-minded bullshit. Daryl had never been happier to have been proven wrong.

"I've got to be getting heavy now," Jesus said breaking into Daryl's wandering thoughts as he carefully began to pull away.

"Now that you mention it," Daryl said, with an exaggerated grunt as Jesus shifted and rolled onto his back next to him on their bed.

"Dick," Jesus huffed teasingly.

"And you call me greedy. Give an old man a minute before you beg for seconds, would ya?" Daryl joked, making Jesus grin.

"C'mon old man, times a wastin'," Jesus said with a playful giddy-up smack to Daryl's bare thigh. "We already missed breakfast, thanks to you."

"Dontcha mean thanks to you, asshole?" Daryl grumbled good-naturedly. "Who woke me up with a blow job this morning, huh?"

"Better watch that potty mouth of yours around the baby or Maggie will have your hide," Jesus warned him.

"Pssht, a bit of cussing's not gonna scare our lil warrior," Daryl scoffed. "Two days old and lil' Hershel already knows how to put his dukes up. His little fists waving all around, just daring some asshole to cross him."

"I think all new babies do that with their arms," Jesus mused.

"Just exactly how many babies you been around, huh?" Daryl growled, not about to let the facts interfere with Glenn's son's obvious developmental superiority.

"Truce, Uncle Daryl!" Jesus joked, putting his palms up in supplication. "No need to defend Hershel's honor to me. I love him too, remember?"

Daryl only grumbled a little as Jesus leaned in to place an apologetic kiss on his forehead before following him into their shower.

When they were dry and dressed, Daryl hesitantly asked him, "Do you think Maggie will like the stuff?"

"Of course she will, Daryl. And that hat you found? Just perfect."

Yesterday, Daryl had taken Jesus on a run. Together they had scavenged a mountain of baby things: clothes, diapers, formula and toys. All the necessities a new mother could possibly need.

It was then that Daryl saw it, a baby-sized white baseball cap, complete with a solid black brim. It was a miniature version of the exact hat Glenn used to wear all those years ago when he and Maggie had first met. Glenn had worn that damn ratty thing for months, all because Maggie told him it looked good on him once. He had lost it eventually, Daryl didn't remember how or when. But he could still picture Glenn wearing it, barely more than a kid himself, sneaking mooning-glances at Maggie when he thought no one was looking.

Holding that tiny cap now, Daryl's heart ached from the tragic loss of his friend, his brother, murdered by that fucker Negan. It should be him out finding stuff for his son, watching him grow up, only he never got the chance. Daryl took some comfort in the recent memory of Negan's bloody death. Rick had gotten to beat him down with his own barbed-wire covered bat, while pregnant Maggie looked on, watching him choke on his last vile breath.

He hoped Maggie would like the hat. Hoped seeing such a vivid reminder of Glenn wouldn't make her get upset and cry, or some shit like that. When he said as much to Jesus, the younger man turned his head to kiss his cheek and chuckled. "Maggie might cry a little, but it doesn't mean she won't be glad that you thought to give something so meaningful to her son. A reminder of his amazing Dad."

"He was somethin'," Daryl mumbled, fighting to keep the emotions bubbling inside him in check.

"That he was," Jesus agreed. "Hershel will know what a great man his Dad was. We'll help make sure of it."

Daryl nodded his head. Jesus was right. Rick, Morgan and Carol were busy working to unite all the communities formerly under Negan's thumb into one larger, more powerful city-state. With those additional numbers and resources now at their disposal, for the first time in a long time there was peace. No telling how long it would last, but for now at least, they were grateful.

"I'll grab the bigger box?" Jesus asked, searching Daryl's eyes to make sure he was alright. It made him feel all warm inside, cared for, cherished...

Loved.

"You got the baseball cap?" Jesus asked him, before bending down to get a good grip on the larger box of baby supplies.

"I got it covered, Uncle Jesus," Daryl answered with a smile, before grabbing the remaining box and following Jesus out their front door.

 

 

The End

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big thanks again to [Lost in Wonder](http://archiveofourown.org/users/LostInWonder/pseuds/LostInWonder). This story would never have been posted without your superior beta skillz and all around great advice. You're the best!
> 
> btw- here is a photo of  Glenn in his black and white baseball cap. I do so love a visual!


End file.
